The Peony and the Rose
by Blind-Hasegawa
Summary: Gakuen-Hetalia type setting.  A war between two school gangs, each led by even more problematic leaders. England X China. Warnings: OoC ness; Yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

"_Wang Yao_!"

The little Chinese boy spun around backwards to see who'd shouted his name. The short, pudgy, green-eyed boy who'd called him, smirked.

"_Yes, aru_?" Yao, always polite as ever (courtesy of his mother's teachings), answered back. The plastic sandbox toy in his hand was carefully put down as he stood up.

"_Are you really a boy_?"

Yao flinched. "_Of course I am a boy, aru_!"

"_I don't believe you! Show it to me_!"

"_What do you want, aru_?"

"_Pull down your pants_!"

"_I don't want to, aru_!"

"_Pull them down_!"

Yao shouted loudly when the boy suddenly seized him and forced his pants down. Yao's trousers dropped onto the earth, showing adorable Hello Kitty-printed panties. The kindergarten boy started to sob.

But his bully didn't stop tormenting him. "_Ha! You wear Hello Kitty! So girly! You are a girl, Yao_!"

"_I am NOT a GIRL, aru_!" Yao shouted, but his childish voice was dampened by the bully's louder voice.

"_Yao is a girl~ Yao is a girl_~"

"_I am NOT!"_

"_Yao is a girl_~"

"_What's going on here, children_?" The kindergarten teacher came towards them. Her face looked dumbfounded when she spotted that Yao was pant-less. "_Why do you take your pants off, Yao_?"

"_He did it_!" Yao pointed at the boy, the blonde green-eyed little meanie. The boy stuck out his tongue at Yao.

"_Yao is a girl_~!"

"_You two, stop it_!" their teacher barked. She helped Yao put his pants back on. Yao sobbed throughout the entire ordeal, but in the hours that followed, the mean boy continued following him around and didn't stop calling him a "girl," until, finally, their teacher relocated the boy to another class.

So much for Yao's first day in kindergarten.

* * *

><p>And that was his very first memory of being humiliated due to his looks. Yao looks feminine; yes, <em>very<em> feminine, to be more accurate. His face, the high cheekbones, is shapely like his mother's, and his little mouth is a heart-shaped, cherry red. His small, cute nose and long eyelashes are courtesy of his father's genetics, along with his pointed, more masculine jaw. However, when combined with his mother's features, together these aesthetics still make Yao look exactly like a girl in boys' clothes. He is also quite small of build, just like his mother. But his most beautiful aspect is definitely his eyes; they are soft and innocent as a fawn's, almond-shaped, with irises speckled with gold.

Initially, he didn't hate how he looked. But the constant humiliation that stemmed from his effeminate features continued throughout his entire education history—he had to change kindergarten classes permanently after enduring six months of being bullied by the same boy everyday. However, he still got teased in his new kindergarten class. And when he entered elementary school, the teasing never let up. It especially worsened the day his mother mistakenly sent him to school wearing girls' clothes. Thus, he inevitably grew to resent his looks more than anything else in the world.

His family wasn't a great help in this matter. His mother worked as a freelance children's fashion designer, and every single week she would received heaps upon heaps of various product samples from prospective clients. Most of the samples were for girls, and Yao's sister was 5 years older than him and too big to fit in the clothes. Therefore, his mother usually used Yao as her model. And since Yao's looks were beautifully androgynous, his mother could use him as a model for both boys' _and_ a girls' children's clothes. So instead of helping Yao grow into what little masculinity he physically showed, she instead encouraged the boy to wear skirts and even paint his fingernails at home.

His mother clearly looked sad the day they discovered that Yao could no longer fit into the sample clothes. In contrast, Yao was so delighted. He was optimistic that he wouldn't be teased anymore. But, he was wrong. His mother began changing her preferences and client base, and started designing older children's clothing, so Yao became her model once more.

Because of the situation, Yao took great care in never inviting any of his friends or classmates into his house. He didn't want anyone to see all the photos pinned up all over the house, all depicting him in cute skirts and dresses and pink frills and flowers. Because of this perceived shunning, however, some of his peers started to call him "the arrogant Chinese." Living in a mostly Caucasian society didn't help much either.

So he started his first year of junior high school with the pure, undistilled willpower of becoming _the man amongst man_; just like the hero of the Rambo films his Dad loved so much.

* * *

><p>His fist was not strong, but it was pummelling fast enough to hurt. Especially when it hit the other boy's chin.<p>

"You… bastard!" the man spat, but his bleeding nose made him look ridiculous. In front of him, Yao stood proudly, albeit while looking short and small. Petite.

"I am the gang leader now, aru. You need to listen to me, _bitch_." Yao smirked, and behind him the gang laughed alongside their boss. Their school was a boys'-only school, so of course there existed a strict hierarchy and within it, gangs. Yao, however, upon his first week of entering the school, already challenged and defeated all three bosses of each junior class (first, second and third year). He was now the ultimate boss.

Yao smiled smugly to himself. His hard work and toil from mastering all different forms of martial arts for the whole summer before the start of junior high was proving very helpful. People generally underestimated him due to his build, but now, that was their mistake. Yao used his un-intimidating stature to his advantage and, despite his smallness and comparatively lower strength, his speed more than made up for these deficiencies. And his looks made many people—especially males—hesitate before attacking him, so he had another advantage.

He didn't know that most of his followers were actually giving him a pass—they were allured by Yao's androgyny and let him be the boss, so they could protect his 'virginity' inside the harsh realm that is known as "the boys' school hierarchy." Being cooped up inside all day in an all-boys' school, with only a limited amount of eye candy, made Yao—with all his 'femininity'—the queen bee.

* * *

><p>But his glory didn't last long. One day, there was a sudden announcement from the administration. The all-boys' school he was in was to merge with another nearby boys' school. With the merger, the school admin stated that they could provide better educations for all, as well as a wider educational space, and increased student interaction.<p>

In reality, the administration was scheming to redeem the most savage high school boys of their hormones. With the merge, the two most influential gangs would likely wipe each other out, thereby allowing the school atmosphere to be once again relatively normal and peaceful.

And so, Yao met his arch enemy that day.

"These are your new classmates." The teacher introduced a whole bunch of new boys—about fifteen total—gathered from the merger. Yao, seated at the back of the class with his faithful servants around him, ignored the announcement as though he hadn't heard, and continued playing cards with Yong Soo (his right hand man).

The room became alive with grumbles; the new boys snarled and the original classmates greeted them with salutes using only their middle fingers. The teacher knew that for the next ten weeks, he would be shitting his pants every time he entered the classroom. He tried to put on a brave face.

"Just sit here for about a minute as I get out your assignments. Quietly," he added in a hesitant voice.

The fifteen or so students silently made their way to their assigned seats. They settled themselves in with a lot of shuffling, and for the next few seconds, as they put away their utensils, nobody made eye contact or uttered a single word.

"Hey," one British-accented voice suddenly called out. "Are you a guy or a girl?"

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then all thirty or so pairs of eyes swivelled towards Yao Wang. The speaker was a skinny blonde boy with no especially distinctive features other than a pair of startlingly green eyes and an oddly thick pair of eyebrows. He was standing by his seat, and had a smug smirk fixed on his face.

Yao Wang, who'd previously been studying the pair of aces in his hands, arched his eyebrows. Who the hell...did this guy think he was?

"I don't know, why don't you come over here and see for yourself?" he shot back, carefully placing down his cards and curling one hand into a threatening fist.

The speaker—Arthur Kirkland—started. The timbre of Yao's husky voice was peculiar, like that of a young boy's, but unmistakeably male.

"Or are you too chickenshit?" Yao and the tall Korean both continued glaring, unflinching, in Arthur's direction.

"Hey, sweetheart, simmer down there," Alfred, Arthur's co-captain, warned from directly behind the English boy.

"What's going on here?" the teacher demanded. "Enough talking. You four, back in your seats."

"You heard him," Arthur said to Yao's face, smiling coldly. "Back in your seat, sweetie."

"Don't call me—" Yao started as Yong-Soo pulled at his arm. He frowned as he remembered that Yong-Soo had already had three previous detentions that month, and would be indefinitely suspended if he acquired another.

The teacher breathed a visible sigh of relief as the boys sat back down, glaring at one another. "Now, turn to page 20. Start reading from the second paragraph and answer the five questions..."

For the rest of the lesson, the entire class didn't learn a single concept, save the feeling of impending dreadfulness from an emerging cold war.


	2. Chapter 2

_This guy is so boring_, Yao mused to himself.

They were only one of a handful of couples at this fancy little diner. The older French businessman seated in front of him was grinning and eyeing Yao up and down like he wanted to devour him on the spot, while swirling a wineglass and jabbering about all his recent impressive accomplishments.

Yao had previously turned down all of Francis's dates, but he was now running low on funds and food, and a free meal at a swanky, expensive French restaurant hadn't sounded half bad at the moment. He had been sleeping over at Yong-Soo's more and more often, as he and his mother couldn't seem able to stop their explosive blowouts. His mother blamed the arguments on his ever-fluctuating hormones; she stubbornly refused to accept the fact that he just didn't wish to be her model anymore. Even though, a while ago, he had stopped wearing girls' clothes for good, to his frustration, his body continued to retain the memory of posing, modelling, and even strutting around in a feminine manner.

Unfortunately, this particular date was probably the worst he'd ever been on. Not even the garlicky butter sauce and perfectly baked rolls that were served with the _escargot_ could make up for the Frenchman's nonstop drivel. And he was feeling more and more uncomfortable with the way Francis was fucking him with his eyes.

Had Yao been following in the news how impossible it'd been to find a decent model home downtown? Why, Francis had bought a gorgeous condo right in the heart of the city a mere few weeks ago. Around that same time, the Frenchman had also leased a 2011 model sports car, as a reward for himself for getting promoted at the international perfumery where he worked.

Yao fought the urge to be incredibly rude and check his watch.

"How old did you say you were again?" Francis was asking him, while not even bothering to hide the fact that he was still lecherously drooling over the Chinese student.

_Old enough to be your son and that's about the ceiling_, Yao wanted to say. "I'm legal," he replied bluntly, bored out of his mind, while smiling seductively. Francis hid his face momentarily behind the wine glass as he seemed to contemplate this.

"How about we get a _chocolat_ nightcap and come back to my place?"

Yao smiled and put on his best "you sure as hell can't get me in bed," voice, "Actually, it's a school night tonight and I need to be getting—" he nearly leapt from his chair as a large hand started groping his thin leg and then began moving into his lap, directly under the table.

The Chinese boy twisted in his seat, but the hand continued to feverishly fondle him as Francis's expression devolved into something feral. "Um," Yao said thickly, while trying not to squirm and attract attention.

"Let's toast to us. Here, raise your glass." With the other hand, Francis emptied the wine bottle into Yao's glass.

"N-no, thanks..." Yao's small hand on the man's wrist was doing nothing to deter the molestation. He sat helplessly as the hand moved underneath his clothes, massaging right in between his legs. Yao squeezed his eyes shut as he bit back an involuntary moan that came out barely louder than a whisper.

Francis leered harder, leaning in closer, his stubble barely grazing Yao's soft cheek. "You don't know what you're missing, little one."

"Excuse me."

Both Francis's and Yao's eyes jerked to their left as the speaker approached them. The greedy hand stopped its movements, though Francis left his palm on Yao's lap.

"Your water, sir." The waiter, who looked no older than Yao, smiled and poured some water from the glass jug he was carrying. Yao blinked.

It was the green-eyed boy who had apprehended Yao earlier that week! What the hell was he doing here!

Before he could recover from the shock, Francis suddenly bleated something in French. Yao didn't know what he was saying, but he was certain it was a curse word or some kind of angry expression. His green-eyed classmate arranged his face into an apologetic expression and pointed out for the Frenchman, "…Restroom is that way, sir."

Francis grumbled, muttering as he strode away. Yao at that point noticed that Francis's front shirt and pants were completely drenched. Apparently the green-eyed boy had accidentally spilled a generous amount of water onto the Frenchman's expensive suit.

Yao knew it was his chance to get out of there. He stood up, but his arm was suddenly caught in a tight grip.

"What the hell are you doing here!" the green-eyed boy hissed. "You are bloody underage!"

"What are _you_ doing here, aru!" Yao hissed back, keeping his voice low. "Let me go! I need to go, aru!"

"Come with me." The boy forcibly dragged Yao through the back door of the kitchen, where the greasy heat from the pans and the stench of various oils and mixed foodstuffs easily filled the entire room. The boy didn't stop until he opened the door to what appeared to be a locker room, and with one good shove he pushed Yao in.

"Stay here. My shift finishes in ten minutes. Then I'll send you home."

"I can go back by myself, aru!"

"It's dangerous for a girl to be wandering alone in this area."

"I AM NOT A GIRL, ARU!"

But the door was opened behind them. Another waiter came in; his face was tanned, yet he was smiling.

"Arthur! The boss wants you ASAP."

"Thank you, Antonio. I will be there right away."

The man named Antonio nodded and closed the door. Arthur turned back to Yao and took something from his personal locker. Yao watched him suspiciously, but it was too late to react when he saw Arthur taking out the necktie to his uniform.

Without uttering a word, Arthur seized Yao roughly and started tying up Yao's wrists together. With a protesting squawk, Yao tried to fight and resist, but the tie was clenched painfully into his skin, cutting him off in mid-cry. Arthur then removed his uniform belt from the locker and proceeded to bind Yao's feet together. Yao began to earnestly scream for help, but Arthur nonchalantly bundled up his shirt and stuffed it into Yao's mouth.

"Stay here. I won't be long."

The door was shut in front of his eyes. Filled with dread, Yao felt the bile rise in his throat. This was akin to escaping from the dragon's lair, only to jump into a hungry lion's den. Somebody help him!

He tried to struggle, and had succeeded in loosening the necktie just in time to hear Arthur return to the room.

The green-eyed boy looked down at the writhing form and smirked.

"Let's go home, bitch."


	3. Chapter 3

"Where's your house?" Arthur asked impatiently, while focusing on driving his small motorbike. The wind was gushing madly around them, and Yao couldn't hear a single word the boy was saying. There was only one helmet, so Yao was wearing it. It was a bit smelly and disgusting. Initially Yao had refused to use it, but Arthur had forced the helmet onto Yao's head without bothering to listen to any further protests.

The helmet did help in one way though. The ends of Yao's shoulder-length hair were flipping about in the wind, but the helmet helped secure the rest of his hair. Meanwhile, Arthur looked beyond serious driving his motorbike.

"What, aru!" Yao shouted.

"Where. Is. Your. PLACE!" Arthur shouted back.

"He..here!" Yao shouted. Arthur swerved like an expert and turned back.

"Here we go then." Arthur pulled the helmet off Yao's head and placed it on his own. "See ya."

Yao turned away without answering, so Arthur just gave him the cold shoulder in return and rode away. Yao glanced around and realized with a start that he was in the wrong neighbourhood. He started looking around frantically for a telephone booth. His cell was dead, since he hadn't added enough credits for the month. And he only had enough money to call Yong-Soo to come fetch him.

He walked around and started to feel lost. Where on earth was he? The neighbourhood felt somewhat quiet and sleepy, but it made Yao feel even more creeped out. He kept looking around and only found houses upon houses.

He was definitely lost and far away from any recognizable main road.

His childish fears started to kick in. He shouldn't have followed the green-eyed bastard! He had even been tied up, gagged, and imprisoned in a restaurant locker room by that kid! What the hell was wrong with him? He should have knocked Arthur out when he had the chance, hightailed it far away from the Frenchman and called it a night!

But being angry at everybody didn't help, obviously. In the end, he was still alone. Feeling lost and scared, Yao's eyes started to get a bit wet. Of course he wouldn't acknowledge to himself that he was crying, but he felt very desperate at the moment.

Suddenly the sounds of a motorbike could be heard. Yao turned back to spot Arthur coming back around on his cycle. The bleached-blond figure screeched his motorbike to a halt directly in front of Yao and removed his helmet.

The smugness of Arthur's expression made Yao want to kick someone.

"I knew it. You don't live here, don't you?" Arthur sighed. "Hop on. Let me take you to my place tonight."

"Who said I'm going to listen to you, aru?" Yao scowled and pouted, looking away. But he couldn't lie and say he didn't found Arthur's actions reassuring.

"Just come with me, bitch," Arthur hissed. "Or else you will have to sleep on the concrete road for the night."

Yao took his time, but he took Arthur up on his offer and grudgingly climbed onto the back seat of Arthur's motorbike. Arthur pushed the helmet back onto Yao's head and gathered the Chinese boy's thin arms, placing them on either side of his waist. Yao refused to keep his arms there, though, so in the end they settled on Yao holding tightly onto the edges of the motorbike's seat.

* * *

><p>"You live by yourself?"<p>

Arthur nodded, though he didn't reply verbally. He was busy collecting all the random objects on the floor—shirts, shoes, uniforms, empty instant-noodle cups, and… adult magazines.

Yao recognized the last item and took last month's issue from Arthur's hand. "You bought this, aru?"

"Yeah." Arthur realized that resistance was futile and simply nodded. "I bought it. So what?"

Yao raised his eyebrows at the unexpectedly defensive behaviour. The smaller, Asian boy smiled. "Oh, you are a pervert too. Relax, aru, Yong Soo has a much worse collection than yours."

"Really?" Arthur asked airily, as though disinterested in the conversation. He seemed to be more focused on cleaning up his stuff from the floor. "How do you know?"

"I have been crashing with him these days, aru."

"Oh, you guys are together?"

"What the fuck, aru?" Yao snapped. "What do you mean by 'together?'"

Arthur looked up, grinning innocently. "Of course I meant 'together' as in boyfriend / girlfriend. What the hell else would that possibly mean?"

"I am 100% a GUY, aru!"

"Oh, yeah?" Arthur smirked. "Show me."

Irked beyond belief, Yao immediately took his shirt off. He threw his clothes to the floor as forcefully as possible. "See? I've got nothing underneath the shirt! Satisfied, aru?"

"Ah, _A_ cup." Arthur tried to hide his smirk, but he failed. "What a disappointment."

Yao's blood rose to his head. He quickly resorted to violence, taking up Arthur's collar and preparing to punch his lights out. But Arthur was quicker and held the Asian man down. Easily.

Easily.

Yao couldn't believe that there existed a person even faster than him. Because he was small and light, not exactly 200 lbs of bulk muscle, his quick pace had always greatly helped him in defeating boys much bigger than him. Arthur wasn't that much bigger, so theoretically Yao should have had the advantage, but yet, now he was pinned down on the floor.

"Stop wiggling. I am tired. The bathroom is down the hall there, to your left, and you can sleep wherever you like."

Arthur rose up, groaning loudly. He took five steps and dropped himself onto the pull-out sofa, the only bed available in the entire house.

"G'd night."

Yao was left on the floor, unable to clearly process the lightning-fast events that had unfolded right in front of him that night.

* * *

><p>"Wake up, lazy ass. We will be late if you don't get ready soon."<p>

Yao refused to listen and buried himself deeper into the bed. So nice… so warm, so fluffy… but it smelled different this morning. Not that he particularly minded. The smell was comforting.

"Wake up," the voice said again, "or I'll rape your skinny ass."

Yao moaned loudly and rubbed his eyes. Who was that? He hated getting woken up in the morning so very much, especially when it came from an impolite-sounding rascal. Yong Soo wouldn't do that. His mother wouldn't do that. Only his sister would say something that vulgar, but she hadn't woken him up in years, so something was odd…

Yao's eyes snapped open and he jerked up. Yes, he wasn't at Yong Soo's or his house. He was at Arthur's place. He looked around and found that he had been moved onto the bed, contrary to the condition he was in the previous night. He remembered snuggling on some clothing he'd used for his own bedding since the floor was so cold and hard.

"Get ready," Arthur hissed, his mouth full with a slice of bread. "No time left."

"Jackass." Yao scowled and rose from the bed. He immediately froze. He was only wearing a shirt-no pants and no underwear.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME, ARUUU?"

"Nothing, princess. Now, if you would, get yourself changed. We only have ten minutes to get to our first class."

Yao grumbled, but he reasoned that being pants-less in front of Arthur might be alright after all, since they were both boys anyway. So he walked to the bathroom and refreshed himself there.

"Calm down," Yao breathed to himself after re-dressing, staring at his own reflection in the smudged mirror. And then he realized something important. Even though he'd woken up half-naked in this strange boy's house, after the initial shock wore off, he wasn't indignant. More along the lines of bemused.

"Yao," Arthur called, and Yao took one final glance at his own face, and headed out to the garage to find his summoner.


	4. Chapter 4

"Let me off here, aru," Yao screamed from behind Arthur's back. The wind somewhat concealed his velvety voice, but amazingly, Arthur could still pick up on Yao's shouts.

"Why? We're still about 2 minutes outside the school!"

"I don't want to be seen with you, aru!" Yao hollered back. Arthur sighed and braked hard, stopping his motorbike. Yao immediately rushed down and pulled the helmet off his head.

"I'm going to walk now, aru!"

"Hey, this is ridiculous, you know. You don't need to walk there just because you don't want to be seen with me," Arthur tried to reason with him.

"But of course, aru! I am the school leader and so kind of are you, aru! If we are seen together, I'll definitely lose face, aru!"

"Hey, but you did crash at my place, so it's just natural to come to and leave from home together, no?" Arthur scratched his hair.

"Ah! That too, aru!" Yao suddenly remembered. "Please don't tell anybody, aru!"

"What, you don't want your boyfriend Yong-Soo to know you slept with me last time?"

Yao's face turned a deep red. "…What? Did we do anything, aru?"

"No, nothing," Arthur quickly replied. He knew if he told Yao what had actually happened, the Chinese boy would most likely kill himself from sheer embarrassment. So it was best to leave what happened that night just as it was and protect Yao from the truth. "…I was just joking."

"Not funny, aru!"

"You are very tense, you know that? You sure you are not a girl, eh?"

"I am not a girl, aru… and I think you know that too."

"Fine, fine. What a shame." Arthur grumbled and took the helmet from Yao's arms. Yao didn't look back once as he started to walk towards the school. Arthur nonchalantly continued along on his motorbike.

Yao glanced at Arthur's back and wished he'd had the courage to say "thank you."

Arthur bit his lips and wished he had just decided to walk together with Yao instead of using his bike again.

* * *

><p>"Firecracker boy! Lend me a piece of paper," Alfred called out, power-walking backwards. The loud American boy was happily balancing himself on one leg while whistling. It was the last period of the day, and the teachers were supposed to collect all their essay homework then and there. The whole class was busy, either trying to perfect their papers at the last minute or else were simply copying others'. It could be seen as one of the vast differences between the 'old—(Yao's)' and 'new—(Arthur's)' school gangs.<p>

The 'old' members were all busy checking their essays—the majority of them were very studious at home, although wild in public. The 'new' members were all busy copying from any 'old' students who were timid enough to be intimidated into "lending" them their essays.

Xiang Gang was balancing his bookbag on one shoulder while poring over a stack of papers, rushing to turn it in before the last bell. Preoccupied with proofreading his essay, Xiang Gang muttered back to Alfred without looking at him, "Not now! What'd you do, eat your year's worth of school supplies too?"

Alfred laughed as he reached out and playfully shoved Xiang's head towards his paper. Unfortunately, Xiang had been holding his ballpoint pen right next to his face, which nearly drove itself into his eye socket. Xiang stood there shocked, his eyes glazing over before he began screaming.

"ARGH! Alfred! What the hell is your problem!" At the sound of his little brother's shrieking, Yao—who happened to be at his locker inside the classroom—did a double take that looked to nearly break his neck.

"Hey you! Leave my brother alone!" Yao snarled. "Why can't you grow up?"

"Hmm, no comment at the moment. Care to discuss it over dinner?" Alfred stopped in his tracks and grinned at Yao, looking him up and down. The small Chinese booty was pretty enough to make Alfred the centre of attention in the burger joint he usually hung out at. Everybody would envy him for sure.

"Gee, I wasn't aware hell froze over," Yao hissed back, clearly rejecting the proposition.

"Alfred, what are you doing?" Seemingly out of nowhere, Arthur came in between them. Alfred rolled his eyes as though to shrug it off, but the angry look on Arthur's face didn't go away. Yao scanned the room. Xiang Gang had apparently made the last bell.

Alfred took one more glance at Arthur's expression and gulped. "Relax. I just wanted to feed the kid. Look at the meat on his ribs, if you can find any."

Yao let out an incredulous yelp as Alfred suddenly yanked him up by one forearm and effortlessly lifted him up bridal-style. "See?" Alfred asked, cuddling Yao close to his chest in an exaggerated fashion, as though he were cradling an infant or small puppy. "He weighs nothing!"

"What the-? _Put me down this instant, aru_!"

Alfred giggled hysterically. "Let's play catch with him!"

"Alfred, let him go." Arthur was trying very hard, unsuccessfully, to hide his smile.

"Oh, okay, you want him?"

Alfred tossed Yao like a rag doll high into the air; Yao's sneakers zig-zagged as Arthur hurriedly caught him in a bridal-style hug. "Nice catch!"

Arthur glanced down at a wide-eyed Yao, who seemed perfectly fine, if only momentarily brain-dead from shock. "Now throw him back!" Alfred whooped, clapping his hands.

"AL—"

Arthur turned his heel before Yao could launch into another screaming fit. They left the hyper American behind as they marched down the hall and turned the corner, with random classmates giving them quizzical glances the entire way.

"Put me down," Yao whispered.

"It's all right, princess."

"I have to go! I'll be late for my after-school job—"

"What after-school job?"

Yao clamped his mouth shut and Arthur frowned. His brain started ticking. "Compensated dating, like what happened last night? Is that what your job consists of?"

Yao shook his head. "None of your business, eyebrows."

"Hey, I am trying to help. This doesn't have anything to do with that seedy-looking guy who approached you a few days ago in the parking lot, does it?"

Yao was bewildered. "Are you following me around or something?"

"It's hard not to notice someone like him. Did you know Herakles used to be a student here, but he dropped out his second year? He just never turned in any work, from what I heard."

"You know him?" Yao twined his arms around Arthur's neck to get a better grip as they suddenly started heading down a bumpy flight of stairs.

"We were neighbors growing up. We went to the same schools our whole lives. I never talked to him much though. My only memories are of watching him bench it every game we ever played. He'd prefer to take a nap rather than join in."

Yao burst into an adorable peal of laughter. Not consciously aware of his reactions, Arthur sighed when it was over. "That's Herakles, all right," Yao said, completely oblivious. "A few days ago he hired me to do some modeling at a studio downtown. I actually start today."

Arthur bristled. "What kind of modeling?"

"So which schools did you attend when you were small?" Yao said rapidly. Changing topics was the best strategy to distract Arthur from acting like some kind of talking security guard dog who asked too much.

"World Cup Kindergarten, World Elementary… what kind of modeling did you say you—"

"Did you attend Seychelles' class in kindergarten?" Yao interrupted abruptly. He had meanwhile taken his arms down from around Arthur's neck.

"Yeah," Arthur replied slowly. "Why?"

Yao paused before going forward. "Do you remember a little Chinese kid who wore _Hello Kitty_ underpants?"

Awkward silence.

"Hmm… not really. I've a bad memory… Err… oh! You mean that girl…That was YOU?"

Arthur nearly dropped the Chinese boy, but at any rate Yao was already one step ahead of him and had shoved against his chest. "Do you know how fucking miserable you made the first five years of my life, aru?" he yelled.

"Ya—" Arthur's head flew backwards as Yao lobbed Arthur's backpack right at his face.

"_Huaidan_!" Yao turned his heel and didn't stop running until he'd reached the parking lot. Panting, he approached the tall Grecian who was lounging beside a Lexus and was checking his watch.

"Sorry I'm late, aru."

"Are you?" The Grecian had apparently dozed off while staring at his wrist. He titled his head to the side, and Yao, while extremely used to being checked out, couldn't help but feel a small shiver crawling up his spine. Herakles's gaze lingered a bit too long on Yao's waist. He blinked and finally said, "Well, get in the car."

He put his hand on the small of Yao's back as he guided him into the front side. "You're going to fit right in here," Herakles said, smiling sinisterly as his gaze slid down to Yao's curved backside. "I can't wait to get us started."


	5. Chapter 5

Alfred didn't know what to make of it.

His position as the No. 2 man in Arthur's hierarchy had equipped him in many ways to deal with the leader of the rival Asian gang and all his loyal subordinates. Alfred was quite good at revving his boys up to do a job, and at using any means at hand to accomplish all his intended ends. But when he took a good, long, hard look at himself, Alfred realized he was not in any way _truly_ prepared to handle what exactly was going on between his boss and Yao Wang.

Arthur, he knew, was used to living in a world where all he basically expected of people—fellow students, teachers, his gang, of course—was compliance. But this Yao Wang was anything but compliant. They were both the 'leaders' and being the 'leaders' of rival gangs inherently made them unable to listen to one other. Each thought that he was better than the other.

However, Arthur seemed reluctant to lay a hand on Yao Wang, to control him through brute means—at least for now. Alfred watched with a mixture of puzzlement and amusement as Arthur let Yao walk all over him. It was as though Arthur simply had no idea how to treat Yao—the boy with the eyes that weren't like the eyes of any other boy in World Junior High—or, Arthur was still in the process of figuring it all out. So for the time being, he mostly just let Yao do to him whatever he wished.

Until now, apparently.

"You bought a new helmet?"

Arthur nodded and handed Alfred the shiny red helmet. "Hurry up and put it on." He opened up a small package.

"No way! A new helmet AND a GPS? How did you afford…? Did you start prostituting yourself or something?"

Arthur hissed in irritation. It wasn't as though he always expected his right hand man to filter whatever thoughts ran through his head, but sometimes, Alfred was just too much. "Just shut up and get on the bike. We're going for a ride."

* * *

><p>"Take off all your clothes and kneel," the German man ordered in a brusque tone.<p>

Naked, Yao genuflected, watching the man—Ludwig—very cautiously. Yao generally tried at all times to keep his wits about him. For now, this was okay. This studio, this man, while it was all sleazy, posed no imminent threat.

"Put your hand behind your head. In your hair. Yes, like that. Now, push your hip towards the camera. _Seductively_, kid."

The camera light went off and Ludwig pinned up the photo a minute later. Yao's figure joined a mass of other photos all tacked to a wooden board. "You can start right away," Ludwig said, scribbling Yao's name on his photo in black marker. Yao noticed how his name looked so simple and nondescript, spelled in the English alphabet. It was a pity how bland his name appeared in alphabet, compared to the corresponding Chinese characters.

Yao followed Ludwig to a little sitting room, where various other young boys were lounging about on oversized cushions or chairs. They glanced up briefly at Yao, but otherwise did not stop smoking, playing cards, or preoccupying themselves with whatever they were in the middle of.

Herakles was leaning against one of the pillars and walked up to Yao as they entered the room. Ludwig's cell started ringing, and he ducked into a side office to answer it.

"Do you understand how this works, Yao?"

The Chinese boy looked around and shook his head softly. He knew the gist of it, but not the details. However, he was perfectly aware that it wasn't legal for him to be there in the first place.

Herakles clicked and glanced back at the bulletin. He smiled, studying all the pictures of the young boys. In truth, while he universally appreciated all forms of beauty, Herakles actually wasn't especially interested in them; he only desired to deal with cats in his lifetime. But then he snapped back to reality and started explaining the business to Yao.

"Clients come in, look at the photos on there, choose a model and then decide on a room to photograph us in. I always get picked for the Pantheon room. They almost always ask us to pose nude. But if they touch you, you scream for Ludwig, you got that?"

"…How often do we get paid, aru?" Yao shyly asked, because that was pretty much the only reason he was there. Money.

"We charge by the room and package, but you'll get the bulk of your paycheck in tips." Herakles suddenly reached out and clutched Yao's chin in his hand. He peered hard into Yao's golden eyes. "You ARE of legal age, aren't you?"

Yao decided not to lie. "Uhm…"

Herakles sighed and removed his hand. "Fine. You're not permitted to go nude, then. Don't take off anything below the waist. Otherwise this whole place could get shut down. Understand?"

Yao nodded.

"The hours are flexible. Feliks and I are going to grab dinner. Want to come?" Beside Herakles, a young blonde boy appeared, batting bottle-green eyes.

"You guys go on ahead," Feliks said. "I need to primp. I have a special Lithuanian guest setting up for the Valentine room in fifteen." He clapped his hands and emitted a high-pitched squeal. "He's SOOO adorable. I _sooo_ wanna eat him!"

Yao nodded again and trailed behind Herakles. He was not quite sure what he'd gotten himself into. They were barely outside the door when a motorcycle came revving up the road. It screeched to a halt directly in front of the duo.

"That was quick," Herakles remarked. "Usually the dinner rush doesn't start till—"

"Arthur?" Yao exclaimed, looking right at the driver. The driver removed his helmet, exposing sandy blonde hair.

"Yao! Get on!" a second voice thundered. Yao blinked and realized that it was Alfred who was seated behind Arthur. He hadn't caught on at first because of the unfamiliar red helmet covering the loud blonde's head. But Alfred's strapping body was a huge giveaway.

"What are you doing here?" As they nodded to each other, Yao turned and tried to run back in, but Alfred jumped off the bike and blocked his path. Yao skidded to a halt as Alfred literally leapt into the air. He tackled the smaller Chinese boy.

"Are you crazy, aru?" Yao struggled madly as Alfred used all 165 lbs to hold him down. The red helmet slipped off and rolled away. The blue-eyed blonde growled—Yao was more slippery than he thought. "Artie, the duct tape!" he hollered, turning on the ground in circles as he wrestled with the smaller boy.

Arthur tossed something towards the American and merely smiled as Herakles shouted in his face, "What the hell are you doing to him?"

"Relax. It's his birthday, we're just kidnapping him to take him somewhere special." The sandy blonde boy smirked and tried to distract Herakles' attention from his right hand man who had ripped off several long pieces of duct tape with his teeth.

Herakles blinked and opened his mouth as though to argue, and Arthur hurriedly added, "I'm his boyfriend." As if to prove the point, Arthur reached in his pocket and held up his cell; the background on the screen was a photo of Yao's surprised face.

The gears seemed to be slowly turning in Herakles's head. In the meantime, Alfred continued wrapping duct tape around Yao's wrists, ankles, and mouth, until Yao resembled approximately a fifth of a mummy. "Whatever," Herakles shrugged, and without looking back he turned his heel and headed towards the parking lot.

Yao was turning red as he wriggled furiously in Alfred's arms and growled incoherently. "Hehe, you're so cute!" Alfred gushed over him, hugging him close. "Artie, before we bring him to your place-can I have my way with him? I'll let you copy my essays for a month."

"I told you not to wrap the tape all the way around his head. Now it'll take out some of his hair," Arthur groused. Marching over, he yanked Yao's tied-up form away from Alfred. He pulled the Chinese boy up to a sitting position and gripped the small, sharp chin in his hand.

"Stop it," he said firmly. "I'm going to take you home. You are to be quiet, obedient, and do everything I say. Understand?"

Alfred's eyes bulged. Arthur's tone had dropped at least one octave and the effect of it on Yao was completely unexpected. Yao looked up tiredly at the English boy's face and closed his eyes. Arthur picked him up and carried him over to the motorbike.

They rode the rest of the way home in silence. Even Alfred. Although it was challenging how they managed to fit three people (Alfred's size was balanced by Yao's petite-ness, who was balanced in Alfred's lap) on the bike.

* * *

><p>Once they reached Arthur's apartment, Alfred immediately opened his mouth.<p>

"Dude, aren't we bringing the princess home?"

Arthur pretended he hadn't heard what Alfred had said and took Yao gently into his arms. He climbed the stairs with Alfred following him like a lost puppy.

Alfred was very familiar with the place where Arthur lived. It was a small single-family apartment, abandoned by both Arthur's parents, so Arthur lived there alone and occasionally threw their gang's semi-monthly parties there.

"Are we kidnapping him or something?" Alfred asked, starting to feel a bit scared. "That is very illegal, you know."

"Yes, I know that," Arthur snarled and handed Yao over to Alfred. Yao wanted to scream as he was easily tossed around by the two boys, but Alfred eagerly received Yao in glee. Alfred peered down to see a blushing bride covered in duct tape. Very enticing. Meanwhile Arthur opened the door with his master keys.

"Give him back."

Alfred easily tossed Yao back to Arthur. Yao rolled his eyes, beyond irked at being treated like a human football and the fact that his being too light for them made it so easy. Arthur caught him without missing a beat, and they crossed the threshold, entering the apartment.

But then Arthur kicked the door behind him, shutting Alfred out. Stunned, Alfred knocked hard on the door.

"Dude, you left me out!"

"Go home," Arthur shouted back. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Hey! What is this bull shit? You can't monopolize him like that! I helped!"

"Yes, thank you," Arthur answered. "But you are not needed now. I'll see you tomorrow, kay?"

"Don't _'kay_ me! I want to get in too!"

"Get lost, Al. She is my bitch."

Alfred lost both his sense of reasoning and patience. "Fine! I won't let you copy my homework anymore!" and he stomped away, down the stairs and away from the apartment building. Meanwhile, Arthur chuckled lightly at the threat; Alfred's homework was never eligible to begin with.


	6. Chapter 6

"Fuck you!" Yao screamed the minute Arthur pried off the tape around his mouth. They were in Arthur's bedroom.

Arthur clucked and promptly re-taped Yao's mouth shut. He reached behind the dresser, producing a pair of scissors.

Yao let out a muffled squeak as the scissors flashed around his ankles, cutting them loose. The moment his legs were free, Arthur tossed the scissors aside. He seized Yao by the belt buckle and dragged him, stumbling and shaking like some kind of trussed-up kitten, onto the bed. Arthur immediately straddled the Chinese boy and fumbled with the clasp of Yao's jeans. It nearly took a minute, but eventually Arthur stripped him naked.

Arthur then removed his own clothes. This took a considerably shorter amount of time. As he draped his shirt onto the floor, he smirked down at Yao. "May I touch you?"

"Mbmmm!"

"Hm. That sounded to me like 'I suppose. A bit.'"

"Mbbmmm! MMMM!"

Arthur ran his finger down the side of Yao's jaw, then leaned over and breathed in his ear. Yao flinched and Arthur chucked; this seemed to be tickling him. The Chinese boy's eyes were closed and he was stiffened in fear. As though trying to help him relax, Arthur helped him lay back on the pillow.

As soon as Yao was lying prone, Arthur took up where he left off, at his ear. He dragged his wet mouth down Yao's soft neck to his shoulder, and on down the chest to his lower belly. At the same time, his hand snaked down the lower side of Yao's body, resting on his groin.

Yao was gasping, his chest heaving, as though he couldn't get his breath. Arthur reached out and as gently as he could, pried off the gag. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Yes!" Yao let out an almost anguished gasp.

Arthur took Yao's length into his mouth and at the same time began kneading his entrance. He was in constant motion; changing positions and enjoying the contact as the other boy emitted a loud, erratic moan. Yao could feel Arthur's heated cock drag across his ankles. His cheeks streaked with tears as this excited him even more.

With a sharp tug, Arthur began removing Yao's bindings from around his wrists. As soon as he was free, Yao felt his wrists being gripped, hard, preventing the boy from rolling over and fleeing. Arthur was kissing Yao so fiercely, his teeth were leaving marks on his lips, marveling at how soft and untouched they were.

Yao arched his neck as he felt the hard, pulsing length beginning to circle just outside the rim of his entrance, teasingly, but not going in….

"Damn it," Arthur breathed. "You have no idea… I want… so bad…"

He abruptly pulled himself up, earning a groan from Yao for the sudden loss of contact- and rested his head in the crook of Yao's shoulder and neck. For a few moments, Arthur simply held the small Chinese boy, his face buried in Yao's hair.

"I hate you," Yao murmured. The words had no steam behind them.

"Stop acting like a woman, Yao."

Yao snapped. With one very forceful shove, Arthur nearly went flying off the bed. Yao jumped to the floor and got on his feet. He had almost made it to the doorway when he felt that familiar hard grip around his wrist.

"Bastard! You fucking heartless bastard! Let me go!"

Arthur yanked him back into the room and pushed Yao's back towards the wall. He cornered Yao there, trapping him by spanning his arms. As Yao glared at him, Arthur suddenly dropped his gaze and began massaging his temple with his fingers. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all this, okay?"

Yao blinked hard. Before he could reply, Arthur continued, "I'm sorry I made your life so fucking miserable when we were kids. The day I realized you weren't coming back, I cried a lot. I liked you then. I liked you today."

Yao dodged underneath Arthur's arm. Without a word, he gathered up his clothes and started getting dressed. When he had buttoned up his shirt, Arthur grabbed his hand and pressed a rigid object in it. Yao glanced down. It was a house key.

Arthur opened his mouth. "I've never given up on the Yao Wang from my memories."

"I _hate_ you, Arthur Kirkland."

The door opened and he slipped out. Without glancing back, Yao Wang left the house.


	7. Chapter 7

Yao was miserable. His backside was sore, and with a shiver of disgust, he felt that it was also really sticky. It was raining too, making his clothes wet, and he was drawing stares from the other passengers in the bus. His eyes were red, but he didn't want to admit to himself that he did cry a little.

The bastard ruined his life. It was his first time, and even worse, he was treated like a woman. He had been nearly penetrated. His backside throbbed when he thought about it. Asshole. That British bastard. He deserved to fry in hell.

He was aware of the severity of what had happened, but when he thought about running to the authorities he felt as though he were falling from someplace very high.

_He was raped. _

Naïve as he was, he hadn't expected it to _hurt_ _this_ much. He'd thought that the degrading dates and even the part time job he'd taken were bad enough, but now he had been raped by his own classmate. Not only did he have to see him every day in school, but he also the leader of the biggest rival gang! What had gone wrong? He'd thought he could control everything by himself. But ever since the schools were combined, he'd met Arthur and everything he'd worked to set in order had gone down the drain. Arthur had ruined everything.

Yao took deep breaths, trying to force himself to calm down. Arthur _had_ saved him from Francis. Perhaps in another life, Arthur would have made a decent guardian. But so much for all that. Now he had been violated. Arthur had taken his ass virginity. That bastard.

Shame filled Yao's head as his cheeks blushed furiously, his eyes filling with tears. By the time the bus halted at his stop, he was unable to stop himself from sniffling. People couldn't help but notice, and some guys in front of him offered Yao a tissue. But Yao declined it rudely, preferring not to talk. He hated men. He also hated women. He absolutely hated gender roles. He was a guy, but no matter what, other men always looked at him as though he were a woman.

He trudged towards Yong Soo's house. He pushed the doorbell, and within five seconds Yong Soo was standing in the doorway, his brows creased in a worried expression.

"Where have you been all day?" Yong Soo asked, but when he spotted his boss's tears, he fell silent as he took Yao inside. "Would you like a shower?" Yao nodded and took his time getting ready. Yong Soo started to call the other members of the gang—those secretly vowed to be Yao's 'secret service'.

Yao didn't know that within his gang, there was a small group of the most faithful of faithful guardians, those who swore on their lives to protect Yao. They served as Yao's most trustable men. And within half an hour, they had all gathered in Yong Soo's place.

Yong Soo led them in, one by one. Kiku greeted Yong Soo's mother politely, while the others (Macau, Thailand, Hong Kong and Mongolia) trotted in behind him without acknowledging her. When Yao emerged from the bath, he was startled to see his men waiting inside Yong Soo's bedroom.

"What are you all doing here, aru?" Yao asked.

"We are here to discuss with you about a possible impending rumble, Yao," Macau answered seriously. "Yong Soo called us and told us he found you in tears. Now, whose ass do we need to kick?"

"Forget about it, aru. Really." Yao blushed; recalling how badly his backside ached, full of disgusting white liquid. He'd tried his best to clean it, but the feeling of being filled was still vividly present. And he was sore, truly sore, so he made a point to himself to make sure he didn't drag his feet when he walked. He reminded himself to walk normally to avoid questions from his gang members.

"Yao, please sit down first." Kiku, Yao's third in command, smiled. "I'll dry your hair."

Yao reluctantly sat down on Yong Soo's bed, and Kiku gently enveloped his head with a towel and rhythmically brushed it against Yao's wet hair. As he dried Yao off, Kiku's eyes darkened suddenly as he frowned, and Yao started. "What is it?" Yao said, skin crawling.

Kiku pulled back Yao's silky hair and stabbed a finger at the red spots on Yao's neck and nape. Yao flinched.

"Who?" was Kiku's simple inquiry.

The temperature in the room might have dropped several degrees. Kiku's voice was low and soft, but all the gang members stopped talking between themselves and shifted their attention to the two of them.

"W..What do you mean, aru?"

"Don't give me that. Who kissed you here?" Kiku growled.

Yao turned away, unable to meet anyone's gaze. "I … I don't know what to tell you, aru."

"Is this your new job?"

"N..No, aru."

"Is it someone we know?" Thailand asked. "Or is it a stranger?"

"It's nothing." Yao shook his head. "Look, I am fine, really, aru. OK? So please let me rest. Sorry, Yong-Soo, I need your bed again."

"Is it some kid at our school? One of our guys? Or is it… one of them?" Hong Kong demanded.

"You should let me sleep~ aru. I am really tired."

Kiku suddenly shoved Yao flat onto his back. Yao lay there on Yong-Soo's bed, shrinking underneath Kiku, who was hovering above him like a bird of prey.

"Yao, please be honest." Kiku smiled gently, totally at odds with their current physical positions. "We are truly concerned for your well-being."

Yao shook his head. "Really, just forget about it!"

"Fine." Yao blinked as Kiku rose from the bed and then patted Yao's feet. "Please rest. You guys, let's talk outside."

"Wait, aru, I want to discuss things too…"

"You just rest, Yao." Kiku smiled at him. His smile was gentle yet incredibly scary. "Don't worry your pretty head. We'll be able to figure the rest out ourselves."

The boys followed Kiku's lead in a single file, exiting the room and leaving Yao alone. Yao's nerves were shot; he was exhausted with worrying about everything. What was Kiku scheming? Why did he feel like he was losing control over his own gang? But his body screamed with exhaustion and he had to succumb to it. And so, Yao closed his eyes, surrendering to the dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p>He went to school the next day with Yong Soo, and suffered all the way to class. Yong Soo owned a bicycle, so Yao rode along on the back seat. Usually he was fine with it, but that day his ass felt incredibly sore and painful, making Yao squirm every time they hit an uneven bump in the road.<p>

When he thought the torturous journey was finally over, Yao saw the cause of all his misery standing in front of the school gate, hands on his chest, looking furious. Yong Soo braked and let Yao down from his bicycle. They tried to pass through the gate without so much as glancing at Arthur, but the blonde British suddenly reached out and caught Yao's arm.

"Come with me."

"No way, aru. Let me go!"

"Let him go." Yong Soo growled and tightly gripped the arm Arthur was using to hold Yao. Arthur winced a bit from Yong Soo's strength and released the Chinese boy. Yao dashed into the school as fast as he could, for his ass was hurting so much.

It got worse. Arthur stalked Yao everywhere, and Yao tried his best to run away from Arthur. By first period recess, everybody could sense something was very wrong between the two leaders of the school's gangs.

Yao pretended he didn't see Arthur's glare turned towards him, refusing to receive or open the paper notes Arthur threw at him every 10 minutes. Yong Soo took one of the papers, but Denmark, who sat beside Yong Soo, smacked the Asian's head loudly before Yong Soo could read anything.

"Don't read our leader's message, fool," Denmark hissed.

Yong Soo growled and the tension inside the room increased. Members from both sides of the gangs began staring each other down in as hostile a manner as possible. Meanwhile, the teacher who wanted nothing more than to escape from the room, started praying to his God to help him maintain any semblance of composure left.

Hong Kong curiously watched the whole episode unfold in front of his eyes. He would definitely find a way to get Yao to spill what had really happened—the gossip in the school had probably exaggerated and distorted the version many times- and he would tell Kiku the truth afterwards. Kiku would know what to do. They suspected something negative, something non-consensual had transpired that day between Yao and Arthur, but they didn't want to jump to conclusions.

Yao ran away from class once the bell signaled the first long break. Arthur growled and followed the smaller Asian beauty. Yao's followers were not amused, but they stayed in their places, guarding their territory. Meanwhile, Arthur's gang also stayed inside the classroom, trying to intimidate the other group.

Yao didn't stop running through the corridor until he found a nice place under the stairs which barely had people coming by. His ass wasn't that painful anymore, but he wished he could just sit down without biting down a scream. He squatted down, releasing a big sigh of relief.

It was hard for him to ignore Arthur when the boy kept sending him letters every 10 minutes. The bastard was really persistent. Yao hadn't dared to tell a single soul what had happened the night before, because it was his own dignity on the line. He wished that Arthur was boasting and fighting him, not stalking him—Arthur was making his life harder this way. Or maybe Arthur was born just to irritate and agitate Yao by making him suffer from his feminine nature.

"I got you."

"ARGH!" Yao jumped from his space and saw Arthur hovering above him. He hissed and kicked Arthur in the groin. Arthur dodged, but the kick was quite fast and hard and Yao's foot crashed against his knee. Arthur growled in pain, while Yao quickly got up and dashed away.

_That bastard_. Yao moaned. He should run away, but where? How about to Kiku's classroom, the second years' homeroom? He ran through the corridor, ignoring other students' eyes on him. T hey didn't dare to speak or comment, of course, because they were well aware of the fearsome wrath of Yao and his gang.

Behind him, Arthur managed to dog him every step of the way. Yao increased his speed, but his damn ass was sore. So he was forced to jump out of the first level window to the school yard. It was blazing hot, and Yao wished he'd stayed inside the building.

But he then realized Arthur was gone. Maybe the asshole was afraid of sunlight like a certain fictional vampire. Yao let himself relax and he caught his breath. He rested under a tree, looking around to make sure he was alone.

"Finally…"

And two arms seized him from behind. Yao was caught. He wanted to cry out, but his scream was blocked by Arthur's lips.

"Stop screaming… n!" Arthur tried to speak while still sucking on Yao's lips. Yao tried to bite back, but Arthur pulled away before he could.

"Let me go, aru!"

"Listen to me, then I'll let you go."

"Argh! Let me GO! BASTARD!"

"Yao, calm down, please listen to me."

"Why the hell should I? You almost raped me!"

"I like you, Yao."

"What is this joke, aru? Were you truly born just to make me miserable?"

"What?" Arthur asked in disbelief, letting Yao go. Yao sneaked away from Arthur, his breathes uneven.

"Because of you, aru, I've suffered years of humiliation! I was always being called 'girly,' because you have teased me since kindergarten, aru! I fucking hate being called a woman!" He drew his breath in sharply as he realized how brutally honest his words were.

"It wasn't what I meant to happen, Yao. Listen, we were young, and just small kids.."

"Screw you, aru!"

"I was young and an idiot, OK? I didn't know better, and you were my first love, silly! Why are you NOT a girl?"

"You're fucking crazy!" Yao shouted, and realized that their conversation had turned into something lame and laughable. "What… do you mean?"

"It's because I like you that I am now like this. You caused me a great deal of problems too, missus. Why were you not born as a girl, damn it?"

"What problem? It's not _my_ problem, aru! You're the one who truly ruined my life!"

"You ruined my life too!"

"You raped me!"

"You were asking for it!"

"What the hell are you talking about? Delusional, stupid, aru!"

"You looked like you want to be raped, so it wasn't my fault!"

"Your fault, aru, everything is your fault!"

"It's not! It's your fault!"

"Your fault, aru!"

"Yours!"

"Yours!"

"Yours!"

And then both realized that they were practically shouting like children. It was very embarrassing and un-manly. Yao blushed hard.

"Drama queen, what do you mean by 'problem,' aru?" Yao asked. He needed to settle things down like a man. "I want to hear your reasons. And after that aru, we can duke it out if you want. Then the winner will be the boss of the whole school."

"I was beaten up all the time by own father because he hates homosexuals," Arthur whispered. "And it's all because of you, your mother came and complained to the kindergarten and my father. My father took his anger out on me."

"…That's why you live alone, aru?"

"That's a big part of the reason."

Yao stopped talking. The sharpest edge of his anger was softened very slightly. But Arthur suddenly walked over and caught Yao's hip.

"Be mine, Yao."

"W..What?"

"Live with me? Stay in my place? I live alone, so nobody will know or care. You can stay until whenever you like."

"Arthur…"

"I was serious yesterday. I am sorry for making you think I was raping you, but I was damn serious… and I still am. Stay with me, Yao. Be mine."

"I..is this your way to make me lose my place as the leader, aru?"

"I don't care about any gang leader or anything. It was a silly thing that they chose me as their leader. I only want you."

"Then admit I am the leader, aru. I'll stay with you then."

Arthur suddenly shook his head. "I can't. Alfred and the others are going to hate me for that if they heard it. And they are like my second family. I can't disappoint them."

"Then I won't listen to you, aru!" Yao shouted and tried to move away, but Arthur stiffened his arms and hugged him tighter.

"I want you, Yao. Can't we be rivals in school but lovers at home? My place? Since you don't want to go back home anytime soon anyway…?"

Yao stopped fighting and felt his anger melting away.

* * *

><p>It came to a head during the last period for physical education of the day.<p>

"Hey! Watch it!" Xiang Gang snapped as he ducked and the basketball went whizzing literally a half inch past his ear. The reckless passer, Bulgaria, sneered.

"Serves you right. It's about time someone knocked you off your pedestal."

"What are you talking about?"

"Tell that girl-man who you all look up to, quit hanging around our boss. We want the old Arthur back."

"Oh please. Yao has bigger cajones than the rest of you, combined," Yong-Soo appeared at Xiang's elbow. They both glared at the hulking form of the Bulgarian. Meanwhile, Alfred and a shy-looking Canadian whose name they didn't remember strolled up to them.

" 'Bigger cajones?' " Alfred let out a loud, whinnying laugh. He sounded like a horse. "Tell Yao he can blow me, and drown in my cum."

"…"

"Where's my apology?" Alfred swayed a bit, and they all realized that he had been drinking. He had probably sneaked in some beer from outside during the last period; most of the boys from Arthur's gang did.

The shy Canadian tugged at his arm, and Alfred shrugged him off. "Where's my apology for stealing Artie away?" Alfred's slurred voice elevated in volume. "Tell you what. I'll forgive him, okay? I'll forgive him if I can knock the living daylights out of all of you, his little minions, and take him back to my boardinghouse bed." He spat on the floor.

"Get _lost_, Alfred!" Xiang Gang hollered.

Alfred swung out. Xiang Gang jumped easily into the air and kicked him in the jaw at the same time. The angle of the kick was perfect, the force sharp and incredibly hard, but it wasn't enough to deter the American. As Xiang Gang came down from the jump, Alfred brought his hand into Xiang's abdomen so sharply that it immediately knocked the wind out of him.

Yong-Soo leapt at the Bulgarian; the recoil of the attack knocked them both to the floor. The Canadian began to weep and wring his wrists as more boys from Yao's gang (Kiku, Macau, Thailand, Mongolia, Burma) and Arthur's (Lovino, Feliciano, Switzerland and Ireland) stopped whatever they were doing and leapt into the fray. For an agonizing five minutes, the sound of scrapes, blows, screams, and yells resonated across the entire gym floor.

A piercing whistle.

"What's going on here?" At five-feet-five inches, Yao stormed inside the gym, his golden glare blazing into everyone like a laser. One by one, the boys stopped throwing punches, or holding other boys down, to turn and stare back at him.

"Where's Arthur?" Alfred demanded, clambering to his feet.

Yao ignored him. His face was alarmed as he glanced down at Xiang Gang, who was crumpled on the floor. Immediately, he started towards his younger brother, and he suddenly jerked backwards. Arthur appeared from behind him, one hand wrapped around his single braid. He twisted Yao's arm behind his back with the other.

The sight of their leader sparked something in his followers, who turned back to their counterparts and resumed warfare. The Asian gang responded in kind immediately. Arthur kept a firm grip on Yao's arm as he quickly dragged him into a dark corridor, partially hidden from the fray. It did not hurt until he tried to pull away, and then pain shot like fire from wrist to elbow. As he was slammed against the wall of the corridor, Yao cried out as the English boy yanked hard on his braid, forcing his face to tilt upwards.

His back flush against the wall, Yao shut his eyes as the other boy's mouth crushed against his lips, teeth meeting teeth, kissing the breath out of him. They wrestled briefly, until Arthur, channeling his growing frustration, reached out and tore off half the buttons on Yao's shirt. They scattered all over the floor like bits of hail. "I'm not letting you out of my sights again," Arthur growled, pushing Yao onto his back, letting his superior weight pin the Chinese boy down.

"No," Yao exclaimed as Arthur held him, forcing him to stay still. He grabbed Yao's ankles and hoisted them on his shoulders. One hand guided Yao's thin hips closer to him, the other kneaded at the base of Yao's length as it hardened in earnest. Arthur started rubbing himself inside Yao's entrance, the muscles convulsing around him. Their gazes locked, the connection searing them to the marrow of their bones.

_I want him now. I want that liveliness that I glimpse in him, that strange grace that permeates through his being, like underneath his silk clothing there is liquid elegance, waiting for the right time, right place, the right __**touch**__ to show itself… all that liveliness, all that __**beauty**__…._

"Arthur," Yao breathed, his eyelids dropped to half-mast. It was like an infant's whimper.

"I love you," Arthur said, and he silenced Yao with another kiss. Arthur moved down to his neck, biting down, straining the warm skin there. Unbeknownst to him, Yao's lips curved into a small, ecstatic smile.

When their lips met again, Yao moved down after breaking the kiss, tongue trailing down Arthur's neck, biting his collarbone, and finally taking his nipple, hard and flushed red, into his mouth.

Arthur was bucking above him, wordless with need. His eyes clenched as he was pushed over the edge, and he groaned his release into Yao's open mouth.

Yao heard the muffled sounds of the fight dying down in the main area. In his mind's eye flashed the faces of his distant parents, the scream-wide mouths of all children who had made him an object of ridicule, Francis's leer as he leaned over him in the fancy restaurant, the mass of faceless erotic photos on the bulletin board at the modeling agency. He felt the accumulated bitterness, disappointment, and crushed dreams being slowly swept away, replaced by a tender hope, young and shaky.

There was no pain, there were no words… just the depth of their bodies.


	8. Chapter 8

For the most recently uploaded installment, please see chapter 7. Thnx~ blind_alchemist ( 11-18-2011)

* * *

><p><span>6 years ago<span>

For much of his life, Arthur remembered living in terror of his father. His parents both constantly abused alcohol, which affected them in very divergent ways.

His mother wouldn't leave the marriage. Her child, her career, friends, family—she chose her husband over all of these, every time, after each and every confrontation. Arthur lived day-to-day, never knowing when it'd be their turn.

Whenever there was a fight, there were never any warning sounds beforehand; no doors being slammed or any telltale noises, just sudden crashes, slurred cursing and bellowing from Arthur's father followed by the subsequent screams of Arthur's mother. Then there was one night where things got so out of hand that furniture was being audibly splintered in the main living room. Arthur was only ten then, but such things had never been kept well-hidden from him. He'd stolen out of bed and had crept into his parents' bedroom, where the gun was stashed away in a small safe he'd figured the combination to a while ago. Ten-year-old Arthur had marched into the living room and had, without hesitation, pointed the gun and shot his father in the neck. He'd been aiming for his head, but hadn't counted on his father looking at him and jumping. The man survived.

After both his parents were hospitalized—Arthur's mother for a broken rib and collarbone—Arthur was immediately sent away to a series of correction facilities and finally, a magnate school; whereupon, after regaling fellow troubled classmates of the true story of how he'd been kicked out of house and home, he'd assembled his own little empire of awestruck, loyal followers.

The state had ended up paying most of his tuition. His relationship with his parents was over by the time he was settled into school; they'd moved far away by then anyway and had left him the apartment. At the time, he tried to convince himself that he didn't care. He didn't need two unstable adults screwing up his life, especially when he had the choice of living on his own by then. He had his gang, even many of the school's teachers at his side, all at his beck and call; the whole world at his fingertips. He was young, healthy, a tough kid; he was a sole survivor. Therefore, he would not afraid of being alone. And, once decided, it became very nearly true.

* * *

><p><span>Present Day<span>

"Eyebrows, your place is disgusting. How can you live in such squalor?"

Yong-Soo squatted in the middle of Arthur's living room, watching a cockroach scuttle towards the kitchen. He picked up a nickel from the floor and hurled it at the little fat body, but it moved too fast.

"No wonder he doesn't want to come here. I'm pretty sure I saw an egg sac on that thing, too. Hire a maid, for Buddha's sake."

Arthur crossed his arms and frowned at the randomly displaced piles of junk in the room. "You think cleaning this stuff up will make him come back? What else should I do?"

Yong-Soo shrugged. "It's a good start." He smirked inwardly. He had no qualms about dispensing relationship advice to Arthur; in fact, he was so perfectly confident that Yao so fundamentally hated the English boy's guts, no amount of housecleaning (or anything, really) would ever convince Yao to return Arthur's advances.

"Sh…" Arthur trailed off, his mind whirling. For paying the Korean five bucks just to come over and have a twenty-minute chat, Yong-Soo wasn't being much help. "Should I…. like… make him a candlelit dinner, or something… I dunno, what do chicks—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Yong-Soo waved his hands. "First of all, do not be an idiot and get the boss's gender wrong. Secondly, I already know the other guys in your gang are all kissasses, but I'll give it to you straight, anyway: your cooking will drive Yao AWAY. Remember last week when you brought in scones for Alfred's birthday? I spent the entire afternoon in the bathroom hunched over the porcelain throne. And I'm not about to bore you with details, but all you could hear coming out of there till the last bell of the day was PLOP, PLOP, PLOP."

"-! ARGHHh. Okay, if you're so damn smart, tell me what to do. What the hell am I paying you for?"

"First of all, you obviously have to get to _know_ Yao better. You might think you do, but believe me, it took me four years and even I still can't say I know him very well. You can't try to chain him to this house or anything. He's like a cat. If you try to cage him, he'll just claw your eyes out and run away anyway."

Arthur chewed this over. "Then how do I get him to realize he likes me? I'm not used to this kind of thing."

"Eat a slice of humble pie and – like I said, try to get to know him. He has zero obligation to do likewise. He has something that _you_ want. It's in his nature to not pay attention to anything, until they _prove_ worthy of it. Oh, and one more thing. He _hates_ being chased."

Yong-Soo zipped up his jacket. "So try to tone it down. Don't make it too obvious." He pulled on his shoes. "And when he gets here, tell him to return my copy of Starcraft."

"Wait. I thought he was staying with you."

Yong-Soo stared. "I haven't seen him all day."

Arthur leveled his gaze at him, then grabbed his cell and pushed past the Korean boy, heading straight out the door. "Where you going!" Yong-Soo hollered after him.

"Call up Xiang Gang." Arthur didn't turn around as he hammered down the stairs. "And anyone else you can get ahold of. Follow my motorbike. The key word here is _now_!"

* * *

><p>The elderly man's eyes didn't leave Yao's body for one second as Yao undressed. "What's your name?" he said softly, in a thickly accented voice. "<em>Ni hun piao liang<em>."

Yao blushed. "Arthur," he finally said.

Steadying his expensive-looking camera, the elderly man beamed. "Ah, so you're from _Xiang Gang_, eh? I was visiting an old military friend there in the spring of '99." He grinned and waved one huge hand in front of his face. "_Aiyah_. Those Hong Kong-nese boys were something else."

Yao felt his face redden several more degrees.

"I'm Winter. Why don't you get comfortable on the sofa, _piao liang_? Lie down and face the camera."

Totally nude, Yao turned his back on his customer and removed a small object from his jeans pocket. Clutching it in his fist, he walked over and sank onto the sofa in front of the backdrop of the famous Guilin mountain range at sunset. He almost disappeared into the cushions.

Winter's voice became very slightly more businesslike. "Fold your arm so that your head is resting in it. Good. Now, look towards me." Click, click. "Beautiful. Art."

Several bright flashes and more clicking noises from the camera filled Yao's ears as he posed and angled his body seductively. After several successions of photos, he blinked. Multicolored spots chased themselves in front of his vision as the rapid clicking increased even more in tempo and the very friction in the air seemed to increase. "Now put the other one on your chest," Winter said in a somewhat agitated tone. "Do you think you can lick your nipples for me?"

Yao started. "I'm not that, uh… limber."

Winter laughed; this time, Yao didn't know why, but the noise left a shiver crawling up his spine. "I haven't got all day, kid," Winter said, fixing him with a piercing gaze as he adjusted his lens. "You know what I want."

Yao hesitated only momentarily before bringing up his left leg so that it almost touched his ear. More loud clicks from the camera, and then, silence.

"Now, touch yourself."

Yao stared at him and instead of following instructions, dropped his pose. Winter slowly crept out from behind the camera and, as though teleported, was suddenly no less than a few millimeters directly in front of the Chinese boy. Before Yao could respond, Winter reached into his pocket, producing a twenty-dollar bill. He dangled the money directly above Yao's head, like a dog owner who was tempting his pet with a treat.

"Come here for your tip," and as Yao craned his neck, eyes fixated on the dangling money, Winter seized Yao's forearm and pulled the boy flush against him. Yao froze when he sensed the hardness pressed against his belly, right through the man's coat. Before he could make a sound, a large hand wrapped itself around his mouth.

"Shhh," Winter said, holding the relatively tiny slip of the body against him with enough strength to hold him in place, yet oddly as gently as one would handle a fragile porcelain doll. "I'll reward you properly, if you do this for me," his voice darkened, "but if you're not going to be a good boy, I'll have to tell Ludwig that he's employing an underage model. He'll have no choice but to have you arrested, and you will never see the light of day ever again."

His hand played over Yao's curved backside. "I looked you up before coming here," Winter added, bringing his face closer to Yao's so that Yao could peer into the arctic-whites of his eyes. "I know you're definitely not old enough to work here."

Yao gulped, aware that he was being threatened with what were probably exaggerated lies, but scared to death at the same time of losing his freedom to access everything he cared about. He shut his eyes as though to block out what was happening. A pair of bright green eyes framed by thick, dark-blond brows appeared in his mind's-eye.

"We wouldn't want that, would we?" Winter released Yao's mouth, using the same hand to subsequently unbuckle his own pants. Yao nodded, and reached out to touch the man's neck, almost affectionately. But in that hand, he had managed to retain the small object—a tiny needle-and though Winter winced at the sudden, sharp sting, the drug worked quickly.

Winter clutched at his face. He released his grip on Yao and started spitting and wheezing violently, so violently that his jaw nearly dislocated. He fell and sprawled out on the floor until the spasms began. His muscles contracted sharply; for several long moments he convulsed and flopped over like a fish drowning in air, and then he suddenly lay still, completely passed out.

"Enjoy your sodium thiopental-induced nap," Yao muttered as he fished out the man's wallet. Yao looked down at the generous wad of cash in his hand. Winter hadn't been kidding about a "proper reward."

Shaking, he pulled on his clothes and silently walked to the front entrance of the building. Halfway out the door, something blurred his vision and as he watched the tears course down the front of his shirt, he was only vaguely aware of the shouting and banging, clamoring closer and closer to where he stood.

"Yao!" Someone had him by the shoulders and was shaking him, hard, but he couldn't focus.

"What's wrong with him?" Whoever was shaking him peered intently at his face. Another boy grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. "He looks like he's had a terrible shock. Quit doing that, Alfred."

A third boy pushed in between the two of them crowded over him. "Yao, who did this to you?" Yao blinked, recognizing Yong-Soo's booming voice. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. What were they doing here? What had just happened?

"Arthur," Yao whispered.

"_Arthur_ did this to-?"

"No, idiot, he's calling for me." Arthur put one skinny arm around Yao's torso and the other under the crook of his knees. He lifted the boy—and, flanked by Alfred, Yong-Soo, and Xiang Gang, headed towards the parking lot. As they walked, drawing the stares of the other models and their patrons, Yao let out a slight, almost imperceptible whimper. "We're going home, Yao. If," Arthur tried to make his urgent voice sound as gentle as possible, "if you don't mind."

Yao didn't mind.

* * *

><p>Arthur finished putting chopped lettuce in the bowl and sprinkled hot mushrooms over it. Yong-Soo had advised him that he couldn't ruin something as simple as a salad, so he swallowed his pride and obediently heeded the Korean's words.<p>

Yao was huddled under the covers. Arthur gently pulled the topmost one back, and left the bowl on the nightstand. "Are you hungry?"

"What's that poster of over there?" Arthur turned his head, following Yao's gaze at the picture hanging on his wall.

"That? That's a Flemish painting."

"Intense." Yao blushed. "I noticed it when I first, uh… came here…"

"You could say that it's a portrait of sorts, showing the origins of some of my earliest kin. Lancaster and York. They fought and fought until they were finally forced to unite. Henceforth, I came along."

"Lancaster and York… didn't they have some kind of odd nickname?"

"The 'Red Rose,' and the 'White Rose,' respectively."

"That's right, I remember now from History. The War of the Roses. And it wasn't until their rulers united in marriage that the war stopped. Interesting how you made it sound like they were 'forced to unite.'"

"So you did pay attention in class, huh. What would you have been, a White Rose or a Red Rose?" Arthur asked, almost playfully. "If you had to choose a side."

Yao thought for a moment. "Peony," he finally answered.

Arthur doubled up in laughter as Yao exclaimed in an annoyed voice, "I'm serious, peonies are the national flower of China. They'd trounce the Roses."

"I think it suits you," Arthur said, once he calmed down. He would never admit it, but ever since he was a child he'd loved the scent of peonies.

Yao's cell suddenly started buzzing. Arthur glanced at it, but Yao carefully ignored it. "It's your Mom."

"I'll talk to her in a bit," Yao said, guiltily. "I don't feel up to it right…" Arthur nodded, and sat down on the bed. He hugged him close.

They both froze as there was a sudden thunderous pounding at the door.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Please see revised Chapters 7 & 8 as the story has been re-edited. Thanks! ~blind-alchemist

* * *

><p>"Who's there?" Yao demanded as they both ran towards the door. Arthur clapped a hand over the other boy's mouth and raised a finger to his own lips. Yao's small mouth tickled his thick palm, and Arthur subconsciously enjoyed the contact. He stood behind Yao, his chin resting on the crown of Yao's head. The two of them pressed their heads together as they both tried to glimpse through the peephole at the same time.<p>

Arthur felt slightly faint as the stretched image of a tall, gray-haired policeman filled the glass. One blood-red pupil was raised directly into the peephole, making the Chinese boy jump backwards. Fortunately the British boy behind him was sturdy and strong enough to hold them both, preventing them both from collapsing onto the floor.

"I know you're in there," the policeman called from the other side of the door. "I can see you kids peering at me through the peep window."

Yao smacked his forehead with an open palm. "What should we do?" he whispered, fear and helplessness trickling through his voice.

The policeman wasn't patient as he waited for vocal confirmation. He started barking as he forcefully rapped on the door, "_Open this door immediately_!"

Yao reached for the knob and Arthur grabbed his wrist. They tussled back and forth. "We have to do as he says! He saw us!" Yao whispered.

"He'll come back later and we'll be gone by then. He can't just break in," Arthur hissed back. But out of concern, he pulled Yao behind him, and the following seconds proved this to work.

BLAM!

"My house—you can't just—" Arthur growled incoherently as the policeman dragged him upwards by the shirtfront.

"Care to explain why I found a missing high school student in your residence?" The policeman fixed Arthur with one steely red pupil. Arthur smiled and was all prepared to sass him back—he wasn't afraid of cops, unfortunately—when Yao cut in.

"No, stop! He's my boyf—" Yao paused in mid-sentence, shaking his head. "Don't arrest him! I am staying with him out of my own free will. He wasn't holding me prisoner or anything."

The policeman dropped Arthur abruptly to the ground, who landed with a thud and an _oof_. "You were staying with him out of your own free will? Is this a case of being live-in lovers?" He strode over to Yao, his boots pounding on the floor. "Do you have any idea how _worried_ your folks are? Why didn't you answer any of your Mom's calls?"

"No, I am not his partner! And my parents and I were arguing when I ran out of the house, so I just crashed at his place the last few days— Aiyah!" Yao yelped as the policeman scooped him up right off his feet. He was irked, once again, because he was easily taken over by the policeman. Seriously, how petite could he be? Yao's inner voice grumbled, cursing his genetics that had prevented muscles from maturing on his body no matter how much he'd trained or how often he kicked somebody else's ass.

"Well, I promised your Mom that I'd bring you home as soon as I tracked you down, so I'm doing just that. And to prove I'm not actually a child molester or anything, here's my ID." The policeman produced a badge from his coat pocket: GILBERT BIELSCHMIDT; Special Police: Hetalia Unit.

"I'll come too, if that's all right," Arthur said, grabbing his jacket.

"You _have_ to, in order to explain this mess," the policeman ordered, glaring at the boy. "You are one breath away from being arrested for kidnapping, git."

Arthur bristled but bit his tongue. "I probably owe his parents an apology."

"What a gentleman you are," Officer Gilbert responded sarcastically as he carried Yao over the threshold. "_Kids these days_…" muttered under his breath.

* * *

><p>"You know, Alfred, the Spartans are playing the Illini in the opener next week."<p>

"Duh. But thank you for the reminder, I suppose."

"Arthur's place, as usual?" Roderich grinned at him. They—many of Arthur's gang—were all sprawled in the comfy school lounge, their usual after-school meeting place. Feliciano tore open a bag of jujubes as his brother, Lovino, stared at him with his usual expression of half-hidden disgust and affection.

"I guess." Alfred turned his head sideways, giving Roderich a quizzical look.

"Does it still bother you that he's putting the blocks to that little Chinese hottie?" Elizaveta, the only girl in Arthur's gang (and who of course attended the neighboring all-girl's school), asked. "You two used to be inseparable. What happened?"

"Huh?" Alfred's jaw gaped.

"He's taken up with Yao Wang?" another voice jumped in.

"Where've you BEEN, Kiku?" Lovino demanded at the wisp of the Asian boy. Kiku almost shrank back. It wasn't very often that the other members of Arthur's (mostly Caucasian) gang included the quiet Japanese boy in their conversations. Kiku- "double-agent Kiku"- also happened to prefer playing solitary first-person computer games instead of hanging out with school acquaintances, so he rarely even met the others outside of school. But this was a piece of news that he really should have been aware of from the start.

"What do you _mean_, he's with Yao Wang now?" he demanded right back, startling Lovino. "How did this happen?"

"Whoa, do you have a problem with that or something?"

"Of course I don't have a problem with it! Look, I was drinking that day and we all say and do stupid things when we're piss drunk," Alfred interjected. "I mean, when it comes to Yao, yeah, I'd hit it in a heartbeat, but it's not as though one can't sh—"

"You would?" Elizaveta interrupted. Her inner rabid fangirl self was tickled. She shifted her weight slightly forward on her hands. "And, uh… and how exactly would that go? I mean, what would entail?"

"I wasn't talking to you!" Lovino thundered at Alfred, but he was completely looked over as Roderich turned around and snapped at Elizaveta, "I thought I told you when we started going out to cut out the male-on-male fantasizing! What am I, chopped liver? Aren't I enough to satisfy you?"

"Hahaha! I know!" Feliciano giggled, his mouth stained green with jujubes. "You're one hot piece of Austrian property! What is wrong with this woman?"

"Nothing." Elizaveta sighed. "It's just they are ridiculously hot as hell, you see..."

"Look in my eyes," Roderich begged his girlfriend, clutching her hands, making her turn towards him. Their usual weekly drama was about to erupt. "When you think of and fantasize other men doing gay stuff, I _miss_ you. Even though you're here, you're not _really_ here, and I _miss you_. I miss _us_. It hurts. Stop hurting my feelings!"

"Oh, shit," Elizaveta swore, sighing as Roderich's eyes started welling up. "Roderich…baby…"

"Roderich _baby_ can go out with Feliciano instead," Feliciano purred with a hint of sarcasm and seduction as Lovino turned his head and gaped at him. Feliciano closed his eyes, pursed his lips and kissed the air (in Roderich's direction) with an exaggerated smacking sound. A jujube flew out from his mouth and hit Kiku in the forehead.

"AAUGH!" Kiku wailed, wiping his forehead excessively. The others scooted away from him—one of the few things they were aware of concerning Kiku was that he was something of a germophobe.

"I'd probably first have him put on a schoolgirl uniform with tall, black, fuck-me boots," Alfred was rambling to Elizaveta airily, unaware that Elizaveta was currently too busy squabbling with Roderich to pay attention to him anymore. "And while he's putting it on, I'll be starting a bubble bath. Maybe light some candles around the perimeter of the tub. And then I'd procure a bottle of Chateau St. Jacque's white wine, because that goes great with Asian food…"

"They're just fantasies," Elizaveta chatted away, "but you're _real_ and most important to me—"

"Why do you keep a billion yaoi mangas and doujinshis in our bedroom closet! Some of their penises are transparent, for God's sake!"

"Feliciano will treat Roderich better!" the Italian boy chirped cheerfully.

"No, not gonna happen! Feliciano, shut your goddamn mouth—I can't believe you're related to me!" his brother snarled.

"Well, unlike you, the boys in those mangas will never, ever complain, yell, nag, or get on my case all the time—"

"_What do you guys MEAN, Arthur's going out with Yao Wang now_!" Kiku shouted at the top of his lungs.

The conversations ground to a screeching halt as the others stopped and stared at him. The room became very quiet.

Kiku looked around and hurriedly composed himself, pulling his face into his usual emotionless mask. It almost worked. Alfred blinked and shook his head.

"Come watch the game with us next weekend, Kiku. You can ask the boss himself about it. I'm certain Yao will be there, too…"

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, as the squad car raced from downtown, Yao's mother was weeping into her oolong tea as Yao's father tried to comfort her in their little suburban house. Yao's sister, Wan, kept pacing the foyer while checking her cell for updates. "Don't cry, ma," Wan repeated for the third or fourth time. "Officer Gilbert said he found him, remember? He'll be here any minute!"<p>

"What if it's not him?" Yao's mother hiccupped. "What if they made a mistake? What-"

"How many ridiculously feminine-looking boys do you see walking around HERE?" Wan asked her.

"I told him about a hundred times to cut his hair," Yao's father steamed, forgetting in mid-stroke to finishing patting his wife's hair and clenching his fist instead. "Stupid teenagers, never listening to good sense. Last week when we were at the grocery, someone held the door open for him as we walked in… and when he and Wan were carrying stuff to the car, the greeter said, 'Have a nice night, ladies.' He looks _too much like a girl_! The police probably mistook one of the waitresses at Ming's Buffet for—"

Whistling, Gilbert walked in the doorway, Yao folded up bridal-style in his arms (Yao perfectly unwillingly, of course). "Anyone order Chinese takeout?"

* * *

><p><span>One week later<span>

Yao's family drama case was finally coming to a close. Initially, his mother firmly grounded him, only allowing him to leave the house for school. By Friday, Yao was bored to death, and he threatened his mother with a self-imposed hunger strike until he was given permission go out on the weekends. His father sighed at this, and forced his wife to let Yao do as he pleased, since Yao couldn't afford to lose more weight. He looked very much like a slender girl as it was, and if he became even thinner, Yao would start resembling those anorexic models in the popular fashion magazines. So his mother relented, and the first thing Yao did when he regained his freedom was call Arthur. That led to him making himself comfortable back inside Arthur's apartment, along with the British boy's whole gang, preparing to watch the Big Ten football game on Arthur's big screen.

Alfred came in the living room whistling, his hands full of soda, popcorn, a bottle of chocolate syrup, and several sticks of butter. All the seats and couches were already taken and the game was just starting. Alfred grimaced, dumping the food on the table. He walked past Lovino, Feliciano, Antonio, Kiku, Roderich, and Elizaveta, who were all lounging on the sofa, to where Yao was reclining in a loveseat. Bending down over the loveseat, Alfred promptly scooped him up.

"Hey! I'm sitting here~aru!"

"Quit bitching." Alfred sat himself down in the love seat and placed Yao in his lap. As the others stared, Yao nonchalantly sat in Alfred's lap like it was no big deal, both boys intently concentrating on the Illini football players trump Michigan. "Ah, all-American college football," Alfred said, releasing a contented sigh. Mainly due to the joys of watching football, but also because of the nice warm weight on his body.

Yao nodded. He actually _was_ an Illini fan, as his sister was attending the college. This was pretty much the only reason he was acting cooperative. And Alfred's body actually felt even nicer than cushions—it felt like a space heater and a plump soft sofa combined together. The doughiness of Alfred's midsection helped greatly. But he didn't notice jealous looks emulating from his surroundings. Alfred, meanwhile, smirked when he saw how Arthur was turning green.

The British blonde sat on another seat, his throne in the middle of the room, and barked. "Yao, you can sit here with me."

"No can do, baby doll." Alfred shook his head, imitating the sitcom '_How I met your mother'._ "You are a convict now, Arthur."

"Al, don't mess with me."

The American prude smirked. "You forget the deal? Yao's mother only let her princess out on the condition of no touching, no kissing, no eloping."

"Shut up, aru." Yao hissed. But his retort was cut short when noises came from the door.

"Sorry we are late." The Asian gang came into the room, being having their own set of keys Arthur loaned to them. Yong Soo, HK and others dropped the plastic bags with various junk food in their hands. "We got your usual candy floss, Yao."

"Really?" Yao perked and left his plump organic sofa. Alfred pouted. But the Asian petite man was already running to Yong Soo and waited impatiently for pink, fluffy, panda shaped candy floss.

"How can they make it panda-shaped?" Feliciano wondered, but his question was ignored. HK took a seat beside the Italian twins, opening a can of Pokka Green Tea.

"What's the score?"

"Not start yet." Lovino answered curtly, clearly lying or just plain don't care. Feliciano laughed out loud.

The Asian group penetrates the Western, and soon enough, Arthur's room became overcrowded with boys and one girl.

Arthur sighed. He loved his solitude, but ever since Yao came, his room was always messy and crowded. Then he was surprised when Yao suddenly walked towards him and dropped himself on Arthur's lap. Alfred, meanwhile, saw it and pulled Kiku onto his lap as Yao's substitute.

"Want some, aru?" Yao poke him with the panda candy floss. Arthur shook his head, but he dropped his nose ontop of Yao's head.

Maybe it wasn't too bad. Not bad at all.

* * *

><p>Review please. we need suggestion, opinion and critique.<p>

Thank you for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

"Additionally," the Chinese boy's mouth curled up, "as a side note, the fat in our bodies is really in the form of liquid in our bloodstream." He lowered the laser pointer, "And that concludes today's biochemistry lecture."

Alfred's hand shot straight towards the ceiling.

"…Yes, Alfred?"

Grinning, Alfred leaned back in his chair, gathering two ample handfuls of his own stomach flab. He started jiggling his folds around, forming squirming, distorted-looking faces with it. "You mean all this," ::jiggle, jiggle:: "this here is all really liquid? I'm a big walking bag of fluid? No way!"

"Sexy!" Feliciano squealed.

"Ugh," Yao said, trying to hide his smile. "Yes Alfred, you are a beauty through and through, from sea to literal shining sea. Any other questions?"

"Take it off," Lovino called out rudely. Arthur perked up.

"Any other _questions_, specifically ones that pertain to the lecture?" Yao repeated, while Arthur held a choking Lovino in a headlock.

"All right, Yao, that'll be all for today. Thank you," their teacher said. At this point in the semester, he had just about given up any attempt of control over the rowdy class. "Next week, Roderich will be giving his presentation." There was a loud accented groan from the back of the class. "See you then."

* * *

><p>Back in Arthur's apartment, the British boy bit his thumbnail as Yao undressed.<p>

"I'm starving," the thin Chinese boy complained, removing his shirt so that he was only wearing a thin tank top and his Shinatty-print boxers.

"We'll order room service if you'd like," Arthur grinned, holding up a coupon for a pizza delivery place and his cell in the other hand.

Frowning, Yao flopped next to Arthur on Arthur's bed, his eyes boring into the ceiling where Arthur had tacked three photos strategically, so that they would be the very first images he'd wake up to every morning: 1) Yao in a fancy yellow sundress with a satin trim, which billowed behind him majestically, 2) Yao in a schoolgirl outfit comprising a cute, apple-red dress with his hair in green-ribbon pigtails, and 3) Yao in a Halloween French maid costume for adult women, complete with a feather duster- and a really trashy garter belt.

"I can't believe you stole these from my Mom." He blushed as he recalled insisting on the pink pumps for his schoolgirl shoot. What was he thinking? A red dress, with pink heels? No one in their right mind would be daring enough to try and pull that off!

"_Uhm… what exactly are you doing with my son at your residence?" Yao's father had inquired of Arthur, who stood awkwardly in their living room with his hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. Behind the elder Chinese man, Arthur could clearly see Officer Gilbert's taunting smirk._

"_Don't be like that," Yao's mother piped up before Arthur could say a word. "I can see you seem like a nice boy," Yao's mother stepped forward and clutched both of Arthur's hands. "Would you like some comics to read, while we wait for Dr. Wang and Officer Gilbert to finish filling out the report?"_

"_Mom, he's not ten—"_

"_Be __**quiet**__!" Yao's mother unleashed a sharp rebuke. "Xiao huai xiahai!" she turned around and added. Yao shrank back._

_While Yao cowered in fear of his mother, Arthur nonchalantly reached out and slipped a couple of photos into his pocket._

"When I close my eyes and imagine what Heaven must be like, I see the interior of your house. Skimpily dressed, naughty pictures of Yao in girls'-clothes taped up everywhere."

"Take those down," Yao said, pointing skyward. "If you ever want to see me naked. Ever again."

"I'm terribly, terribly sorry. Come here," Arthur apologized profusely, his voice gentle now.

Yao only closed his eyes. Arthur rolled onto his side and pounced. They wrestled, and he pinned Yao down into the bed. "I couldn't care less if you want a damn pizza. I want _you_. _Now_." Before Yao could say another word, Arthur crushed their lips together.

Feeling Arthur's excitement pressed against him, his body responded and Yao let out a soft moan; Arthur drew in his breath sharply. Light streamed into the window adjacent the bed and Yao's tousled hair, his tilted amber-colored eyes, caught the fire of the sun. The English boy's hands slipped behind his back, over his ass and then under his legs, lifting him up and letting Arthur have more access.

_I first met as a very young child, and as fate would have it we spent most of their lives apart since that time._

_Yet over the years, my obsession of him only increased in furor, not dwindled. If I had any passing interest in another during that space of time, somehow, perhaps subconsciously, I nearly always ended up comparing them to my memories of him, and nothing ever seemed to changed._

_Yes, now that I've finally found him again, Yao __**belongs**__ to me, in every sense of the word._

Yao felt the tears scorching a trail down his face, as he felt Arthur pushing into him, pushed into the sight and color and sound of his dream, pushed until he thought his blood might boil with it, until he wasn't pushing anymore and Yao was lost in the pulse of their bodies. When he thought he might die of it, Arthur kissed him again and held him close.

* * *

><p>"Good evening, Miss Wan."<p>

"Haha," Wan said as she wrapped wontons, " 'Wan-mei' is fine, Kiku. Don't be so formal."

"May I have some of those when they're done, Wan-mei?"

"Only if you touch your toes." Wan folded the edges of an especially plump wonton into small crinkles. "If you're looking for Yao, he's not home yet."

"He's over at the English guy's house, isn't he?"

Wan was silent. The dough squished against her fingers.

"Why is he with that guy?" Kiku said abruptly, pressing further.

"I think they're watching a movie at his place, Yao also said something about taking a picnic to the reservoir—"

"No, I mean. Why is Yao dating him? It makes no sense."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't be an idiot, Wan. As a couple, the two of them have no foreseeable future. They're wasting each other's time."

"What makes you so sure of that?" Wan said blandly.

"Come now, can't you see it? They have nothing real in common—nothing in the way of background, goals, politics, faith, _language_, hobbies, interests... Perhaps they're both interested in _teas_, but that's not enough to hold a relationship together! This affair is obviously based only on lust."

"Yes, they may be very different, personality wise, but there's a certain chemistry there. You can't deny it."

Kiku stared at her as though she'd grown two heads. "Call him. Tell him to come home."

Wan sighed and leaned forward on her elbows. The dangling ends of her hair had flour in them. "He seems pretty happy, Kiku."

"That British isn't right for him. It's only holding him back from finding that someone who _is_ perfect for him."

Wan stopped in mid-wrap. "Maybe. They _are_ very different. But it doesn't matter. My theory is that when Yao does meet that someone who is right for him," here, she was suddenly serious, "he won't want him."

Kiku wasn't a fool. Slowly but surely, it was becoming clearer and clearer that things were no longer the same between him and Yao. Yao had stopped coming to Kiku with his thoughts and feelings, and it was obvious now that Yao no longer belonged to Kiku as he once had.

At that moment, Kiku looked straight ahead, not bothering to meet Wan's gaze.

"He won't love him back," Wan explained.

Wan dropped the final wonton on the plate, turning on the stove. "Let the relationship run its course, Kiku. Anyway, Arthur seemed quite courteous to me and Mom and Dad when Officer Gilbert brought Yao back home."

"Did you like him?" Kiku asked.

"I didn't hate him."

Kiku watched her drop the little wontons neatly into the pot; they were like Chinese Olympic divers; there was not a single splash. "You know," he said suddenly, "since it's a holiday weekend they're bound to have a lot of decent sales at the mall. Would you like to go to there tomorrow?"

Wan let go of a wad of dumplings into the pot and there was a huge, loud KERPLUNK. "Oh my gosh! Yes! Will you take me? Oh thank you Kiku! I'll ask Xiang Gang if he wants to go too!"

The door opened and a backpack flopped onto the floor. "Anyone home? Oh, I smell dumplings," Yao exclaimed.

Kiku immediately walked towards him and beckoned him with a crooked finger into the living room. Puzzled, Yao followed. The two of them sat on the couch. "Ni-ni, Wan wants to go shopping tomorrow with me and Xiang. Would you like to accompany us?"

"Uhm…" Of all possible long-drawn-out errands, Yao wasn't sure why Kiku was offering to go shopping. The last time Wan forced them to accompany her to the mall; Kiku actually fell asleep in one of the chairs across from the dressing rooms as Wan tried on three different pairs of jeans, six skirts, and five summer tops, as Hong Kong (who was reluctantly carrying Wan's purse) stared emotionlessly at him from the opposite chair.

Then again, perhaps there was a blowout sale of PS3 games. "Sure, why not?"

"It'll be fun."

"Yes. Probably."

"Kind of like a double date."

"…"

"What is it?"

"Kiku, we've already gone over this."

Kiku was silent. Yao knew him too well to brush it off as the benign kind of silence. Cautiously, with his small hand, he reached out and enveloped Kiku's fingers.

"Look, you're my number two man. Recently our gang owes just about everything to you…"

Kiku stared ahead placidly as Yao kept chattering. "Like I told you at that concert last month, you're like my little brother. Just like Yong—"

"Where were you last night?" Kiku asked him abruptly.

"Last night? I was just out," Yao said, a bit too quickly. Kiku blinked.

"With the leader of our _biggest rivals_, am I correct? You stayed over at his place?"

Kiku leveled his innocuously blank look into Yao. Then, unexpectedly, he lowered his head and smirked.

"What is it?" Yao asked. He twitched ever so slightly as Kiku came around behind him, seemingly taking his time. After a pregnant pause, Kiku lifted his head, seemingly staring straight out the window. Yao followed his gaze towards a half-hidden patch in the garden, where the tender shoots of a chrysanthemum and peony were beginning to poke their little heads, side-by-side, from the surface of the soil.

"Look at that," Yao said, trying too obviously to change the subject. "Spring must be coming soon."

"When did you first plant those?"

Yao beamed. "Oh, long, long ago… it must have been back in…"

"First grade?"

"Has it been _that_ long? I suppose—"

"First grade. Remember , back then, those mornings when you couldn't even bring yourself to leave the bus…"

"What? The bus?"

"The school bus. Because as soon as they saw you all the other kids would try to push you into the girls' restroom 'where you belonged.' And when you cried for them to stop, nobody, not even the teachers did a thing."

Yao opened his mouth, and snapped it shut as long-repressed memories stormed the floodgates of his mind. He sat motionlessly, looking straight ahead.

"Remember how you cried on my shoulder for three days straight, after the biggest kid in sixth grade asked you out, and then beat you up after school once they noticed you had the wrong body parts?"

Kiku had come up behind him, putting his lips right by the whorls of his ear while placing his sleek hands on Yao's skinny shoulders.

"You were always there," Yao finally said. His voice was hollow.

"Whoever this Arthur fellow _really_ is," Kiku murmured, "he's just having fun for now. Just like when that Russian character stepped in your life a few months ago, and suddenly out the moment he found that easy Lithuanian boy. But I've always been there. Like you said."

Although the room was warm, Yao couldn't help but shiver as Kiku glided his lips down Yao's slender nape, while the hands slid towards his thighs. The fine hairs on the back of Yao's neck stood on end.

"And I always will."


	11. Chapter 11

"YONG-SOO! I'LL GIVE YOU FIVE BUCKS, IF YOU WOULD JUST—SHUT THE HELL UP!"

The Korean boy snickered amidst the shrill ringing. "Wow, who took a pee in your bubble tea this morning? Is that any way to treat your cousin?" He smirked like a jackass as Wan's cell rang on and on. "That has to be that toolish boyfriend of yours from Hong Kong calling here again, am I right?"

Wan shot him a death glare before answering the phone. "_Hiii_," she spoke in a much different voice into the receiver. Her lips quirked up in a smile before she giggled, "Not too bad, pookie. Did you have a nice nap?"

Yong-Soo raised his voice so that practically the entire neighborhood could hear his next words. "WAN! Who are you talking to WAN!"

Wan spoke even more deeply into the receiver. "Yes, Xiang," she said in a voice approximately two octaves higher than her "yelling voice." "Yao and I did end up going to Joe's Noodle House today after shopping… he had three bowls of ramen, one with chicken, one with pork chops, and one with plain vegetables, and I had the ma po tofu and the cold ramen with chicken and tomatoes." She paused. "We were little piggies."

"WAN! _Hang up right now and get back to bed_!"

"Babe, can you excuse me one second?" Wan put her cell on mute. "YONG-SOO! If you don't BEHAVE YOURSELF this _instant, _I'LL… I'LL SELL YOU ON CRAIGSLIST!"

Someone started pounding down the stairs at that moment. A few seconds later, Yao, shirtless, wearing only boxers, stomped into the kitchen. His black hair forming a static-filled halo around his face, the Chinese boy rubbed at his eyes. "Um… will you two psychos knock it off? Wan, nobody in their right minds would offer to take Yong-Soo off your hands, so don't bother screeching like that. Thanks a lot for waking me up!"

"Look at what you've done, Wan," Yong-Soo hissed at his cousin, "you've interrupted our dear Yao's beauty sleep."

"Beauty sleep, my ass," Wan retorted. Yao winced; he hated it when his sister spoke rudely. Looking out the corner of his eye, he suddenly realized that she was studying his slender back. With a start, he hastened to turn around and conceal the long scratches standing out against the otherwise porcelain skin. Wan went on, impishly, "I think I recall seeing another body in there—"

"Is everything all right?" a British-accented voice rang from the front door.

"Eh?" Wan exclaimed, and shut her mouth at the sight of Yao's expression. A second later, Arthur cautiously strolled inside. At the sight of the nearly nude Yao standing in the kitchen, Arthur stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes bulging.

"Wait a second," Yong-Soo said. "Then who was—" Wan, who had made a fist, punched him in the arm.

"Here you are, Yao." All four kids in the kitchen jumped as Kiku stealthily emerged, holding out Yao's crumpled T-shirt and pair of shorts. "I found these in the wash." His obsidian pupils seemed to gleam a bit triumphantly in Arthur's direction, but it was difficult to tell.

"Thanks," Yao mumbled, pulling the shirt over his head, oblivious to the incredulous look Arthur was leveling at Kiku. "Well, I'm going to the mini-mart," he said quickly, trying to sound bright and casual, "I'd better get some stuff for tonight's din—"

"Yes, you had better. I'll come with you." Arthur's hand shot out and seized Yao, dragging him through the front door, away from Kiku, Wan, and Yong-Soo, the latter two who were still awkwardly staring after them. Yao looked back as he sagged in Arthur's grasp, but nobody moved to help him.

Outside, in the brisk autumn air, Arthur and Yao continued walking in silence, with the British boy staring straight ahead. "Arthur?" Yao ventured after a few minutes, trying to wriggle, but Arthur only increased the pressure around Yao's wrist.

When they had crossed the street and reached the deserted neighborhood park, Arthur suddenly threw Yao back-first against the brick wall fence. "Aiya! That hur—"

The British boy crushed his lips against the Chinese boy's, pressing their chests together as he did so that their heartbeats seemed to intermingle. As he claimed the Chinese boy's mouth, Arthur's arm circled possessively around Yao's waist, fitting the other boy's body into his. He didn't let up even as Yao gasped once for air, and then he held tightly to Yao's hands.

"Who were you talking to in there?" Arthur rounded on him, peering intently at his face. "Was it that Japanese bloke?"

Yao didn't respond. Instead, he looked up almost pleadingly at the British boy, and Arthur cursed inwardly; it was impossible not to get sucked into, not to get lost into those _eyes_ (those golden, fawn-like eyes whose timid sweetness lured you in)…

Nibbling on his lower lip, Yao glanced to his left and finally said, in a small but firm voice, "Arthur, there's something I need to ask you."

(once Arthur started looking, sinking into those golden eyes, he knew he was powerless to stop)—

"What?"

"This all is going a bit fast, don't you think?"

Arthur blinked, and a shadow seemed to momentarily cross his face. "I see."

The Chinese boy's pulse quickened.

"Yao, if there's something I'm doing that you don't like, you only need to tell me. I know I can be a right bastard sometimes." Arthur glanced down at his feet, and when he spoke again, there was more of an edge to his voice. "But that doesn't mean you can go hooking up with whatever—"

"I have to love you the most, is that it?" Yao interrupted.

"What?"

"If I think of my gang as the most precious to me, you can't have that, can you? If I consider being with _them_ as my home, you have to steal me away, or block them from my sight."

Arthur was silent.

"Don't ever try to make me hate them," Yao said, his eyes gleaming a bit more passionately now, "because you'd lose."

Arthur clutched Yao's chin. "Is that what you think I want?" Leaning down, the British boy kissed the Chinese boy again, deep and hard; rubbing against him with his hips but not touching further. He moved down, his tongue trailing down Yao's neck, biting his collarbone; Yao let out a soft moan—everywhere Arthur was touching him, his skin screamed out for more.

"Is that what you think I want?" Arthur repeated, in a whisper, his voice leaving a throbbing in Yao's veins. "Your happiness, Yao, is the only thing I want." Yao arched his neck up and back as Arthur left a trail of kisses on his face; with a few choice words and gestures Arthur could awaken every inch of him, make him come to life—

"I—" Yao kept his head tilted back, his eyes closed. Internally he felt as though he were struggling at a precipice; he wanted so badly to give Arthur the go-ahead to throw him off. "Don't lie to me—"

"Have I ever?"

Yao felt the fiery knot growing in his lower belly as Arthur gripped his waist, and they leaned closely into each other, breathing in each other's scent.

"I'll play it any way you want, love."

(Why was something was holding him back?)

"_Arthur Kirkland_," he whispered.

"What's that, Yao?"

"Arthur Kirkland."

Arthur stiffened as Yao wrapped his arms around him, placing a soft hand at the nape of his neck, where the British boy's scent seemed to gather.

"Arthur Kirkland," Yao said again, his heart beating fast, and a tear coursed down his face when Arthur twined his hand in his long hair, and his lips found Yao's.

* * *

><p>"Hey, check out the hot chick at twelve o' clock," Alfred smirked at Austria, who was carrying a load of textbooks to their world history class. Austria grunted in response; he did not appear interested enough to turn his head, but on his other side, Yao craned his neck as Alfred wolf-whistled. Then Yao realized it was just his sister, Wan. Glaring at the American boy, Yao hurriedly stacked his own books on top of Austria's already staggering pile and broke away from the group.<p>

"Wan, what are you doing here?" Yao hissed as he caught up to his sister.

"Relax. I promised my old physics teacher that over my spring break I'd come back here to give a speech to one of his advanced-placement classes. I just got done about ten minutes ago. Oh, uh—who's that charging towards me?" She squinted. "He looks kind of familiar."

"That's Netherlands. You used to babysit us both after school," Yao replied as a spikey-haired Dutch boy ran towards them, skillfully threading his way through the crowded halls. "Wan!" the boy called out. "Wan! Is that really you?"

"Hey, Netherlands." Wan's eyes widened. "It's been a while! I'm sorry that I didn't recognize you at first." She swallowed as she scanned him up and down. "You're two feet taller than me now!"

"Yeah, it's been years! I've missed you and the __tzong you bing__ you used to make me as an after-school snack! Hey, Denmark, this is the girl I told you about! The one who used to watch me during soccer practice!" Another hulking figure came into view, carrying a huge black bag that might have very well been containing a concealed machine gun.

"Pleased to meet you," the Dane smiled widely. There were visible particles of fish and rye bread stuck in his teeth.

"So how have you been?" Wan asked. "How is school? Have you started applying to universities yet?"

"Uh, yeah, I'll get to that pretty soon. I'm actually on my way to mandatory study hall because they caught me last week skipping phys ed for the fourth time. But anyway. Look at what I did during lunch hour today!" Netherlands suddenly lifted up his shirt, exposing his bare chest and a perfect twelve-pack. A brand-new, golden hoop glistened from each nipple.

Wan's jaw hung open. At the sight, Netherlands's smile faltered ever so slightly. She shook her head. "Whoo-whoo! Look at that!" she said enthusiastically, pointing at the left one. Netherlands beamed.

"It really hurt, but it was worth it!" Behind Netherlands, Yao noticed Denmark rolling his eyes.

"Okay, you guys catch up, I need to get going to class," Yao said as nobody paid attention to him. Leaving Wan to listen to the rest of Netherlands's story about his piercing adventure, Yao turned around and scanned the hallway for Alfred and Austria.

"Yao," The Chinese boy found Arthur at his elbow, balancing his own stack of books. His brittle golden eyes softened, then widened suddenly.

"What is it?" Arthur frowned as he turned around, and saw Kiku standing right behind them. The Japanese boy was smiling.

"Hello," Kiku said simply.

"Hello," Yao answered.


	12. Chapter 12

New chapter! You need to thank Blind_Alchemist for she is the one who diligently keep this coming, hehehe. I love her and you guys so much!

Please read Blind_Alchemist's story! They are amazing! By the way, this story I honestly dont know where this story is going. (Like usual, very weak in keeping up with plots whatsoever hehe).

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Before Yao could get out another word besides <em>hello<em>, a blond-haired blur swept in from behind him and marched right up to the Japanese. "Yao. Stay here; I'll be right back."

"Arthur—?"

Grasping one skinny arm in a tight grip, Arthur brushed off Yao's astonished inquiries and started leading Kiku down one of the empty halls. For several moments, the two boys walked in silence, Arthur staring straight ahead, Kiku keeping up the pace serenely.

"Kiku, you mind telling me what the hell this is about?" Arthur hissed when he was certain they were out of earshot.

"I was about to take Yao-nii to a movie that he'd been dying to see for a while. You had plenty of opportunity to take him, but for whatever reason, you appeared to keep putting it off. Today I happened to have no extracurricular activities after classes, so I offered to accompany him." Not a single note of inflection was raised in Kiku's ice-cream-smooth voice. "Nobody forced him into anything, you hear?"

"I know what you're up to," Arthur retorted. "You have no right to put your hands on another man's property."

"What if he enjoyed it?"

Arthur stopped in his tracks and leveled a gaze at him like a spear. "I'm serious, Kiku. Go find your own princess. Is there something preventing you somehow from doing so?"

"I can want whatever I want," Kiku answered coolly.

There were voices approaching. Arthur looked up, distracted; Kiku seized the opportunity to wrench his wrist back. Before Arthur could turn around again, the Japanese boy had already swiftly departed through one of the exit doors that led into the school parking lot. Grinding his teeth, Arthur debated his next move. He'd recognized a couple of the voices, including Alfred's squeaky timbre, as belonging to members of his own gang, which he'd been avoiding lately. Shaking his head, Arthur went to chase after Kiku in what he knew would turn out to be a fruitless effort. The voices continued to grow in volume as they reached the exits as well.

"That _guy_," one Norwegian-pitched voice was saying. "The one that looks like a blond scarecrow. Arthur what's his nose."

"Wh't about h'm?"

"He's fucking _Yao Wang_."

The gang murmured amongst themselves. More than a few of them were looking a bit green-eyed. However, Alfred, the American, lifted his shoulders up to shrug.

"Yeah, Arthur IS a scarecrow. I think the two of them _combined_—the Chinese kid and Arthur—still wouldn't weigh as much as I do." The American boy snickered. "Yeah, so anyway, so what. It's not as though them going out affects your life in any way. So what if Arthur looks like a scarecrow."

"But he's fucking _Yao Wang_," Norway repeated, stubbornly, his lips pursed.

"So what?" Alfred said again, a bit nervously. "Yao Wang fucks his own brother, I heard."

"I do what now?" The group jumped as they realized that Yao (accompanied by Yong-Soo) happened to be a mere foot behind them.

"Yeah, Yao," Alfred said, turning around to face the Chinese boy, "why can't _I_ take the place of your little brother one of these days?" He tried to reach over to grab Yao's waist, but only got his hand slapped away, as to be expected.

"What are you suggesting, Alfred?' Yao sneered at the blond Thor-like boy.

Alfred snickered. "Dunno? Maybe people leak out about how happy you are to dance on Kiku's lap…"

"What! I would never do such things with my little brother!" Yao insisted hotly.

"Alright," Alfred said in a surly voice, nursing his slapped hand, "you don't need to convince us. Don't flatter yourself, okay? You're not _that_ hot—it's not like EVERYONE wants a piece of you."

"Huh?" Tino spoke up. "But Alfred, weren't you the one who put all those notes on Arthur's motorbike windshield, that all read something like " 'I'm going to **steal** Yao and barricade him in my bedroom' " and " 'Since you asked, what I want for my birthday is for you to lend me Yao Wang in handcuffs'—"

"Shhffthhmpp!" Alfred jammed a crumpled-up Big Mac wrapper into Tino's mouth. The American boy then yelped in surprise as he felt an arm winding around his shoulder. As though experiencing a sudden change of heart, the Chinese boy had reached up with one arm, as the others looked on in amusement, he kissed Alfred on the cheek. For a moment, Alfred simply stood there, stunned.

BAM!

"Works every time," Yao muttered, pulling his cell from his pocket. He began texting as the rest of Alfred's gang tried to revive him from the floor where he lay.

"You just got touched by an angel!" Yong-Soo waved, playfully taunted at the unconscious American. At the others' stares, he sheepishly stuffed his hands back in his pockets. "Where you guys headed?"

The gang exchanged looks. "Veeee," Feliciano started in a bright voice, "we were thinking of killing some time at the Smiling Pict tonight. It's my birthday! And Romano's too!" He glanced down at Alfred's prone body. "Alfred! I can see your boner!"

Yao looked up from his cell suspiciously. "Isn't that the run-down bar that was condemned a while ago?"

Feliciano looked bewildered. "…Uh…"

"It _is_ condemned, but it's not scheduled to be knocked down till next week," Romano jumped in to clarify. "So we're throwing one last hurrah."

"Wanna come?" Feliciano chirped.

Yao balked, thinking, a small pout forming on his face. He did have a lot on his mind—namely, two subjects beginning with A and K. Perhaps a crazy night out to relieve some of that stress wasn't a bad idea. "Maybe we'll meet you guys up."

He nearly jumped as he felt a pair of arms wind themselves around his waist from behind, and a mouth kissing the side of his face. "See you there," a British accented voice drawled in his ear, while the rest of Alfred's gang looked on in dumbfounded silence.

Before Yao could protest, Arthur bent down, swept the Chinese boy into his arms and lifted him off the ground. "Wrap your legs around my hips."

"What the—what are you doing?"

"Put him down!" Yong-Soo ordered.

Arthur only grinned, sending shivers down Yao's back. Even as Yao struggled to pry himself free, Arthur forced the Chinese boy to wrap his legs accordingly, and nipped at Yao's exposed neck before carrying him away. "I'll be right back with him," he assured Yong-Soo, who was being held back by Sweden and Norway. "We're just taking a bathroom break."

"What the hell are you going to do to him!" Yong-Soo yelled after Arthur's retreating back.

"Do not do this here!" Yao hissed as Arthur slammed the door behind them. "I mean it, eyebr—" he groaned as Arthur bit down lightly on his neck, leaving a small red mark on the porcelain skin. They were inside the single stall of the boys' rest room. As Arthur set Yao down, the British boy slipped his hands underneath Yao's ass and around his thighs.

He crushed his lips into Yao's, pushing his tongue into his mouth. As they kissed, Yao stopped resisting, becoming more pliant; he twined his body around the British boy's, wrapping his ankles around Arthur's calves and keeping him close. Yao felt a hot mouth attach to his neck, and he sighed as Arthur sucked, so hard that the Chinese boy went limp with it, and found himself wanting more. Then, Arthur suddenly broke free, and pulled the smaller boy over to a side of the stall.

"Strip," Arthur ordered.

Hesitating only momentarily, Yao brought his hands up, groping at the buttons of his shirt until they came loose. He licked his lips, his very pink tongue appearing for a second before vanishing inside once more. Gazing coyly at Arthur through wispy black bangs, Yao leisurely traced his fingers down his chest to the waistband of his pants, stroking it slightly as Arthur watched hungrily, impatiently.

"Mmm," Arthur growled, pressing one hand to the inside of Yao's right thigh and pushing his legs open, wider and wider. He thrust upwards, rubbing their clothed erections together, eliciting a whimper from Yao which made him shudder and see white—how good it would feel to pound into that little lithe body and kiss the Chinese boy's lips brutally, pull on that beautiful black hair that framed that perfect, pale face; draw out more wonderful screams and cries of pleasure as Yao's muscles tightened around the cock buried deep inside him—

"ARTHUR!" The two jumped as someone banged against the stall door.

"_What_!" the British boy snapped.

"Get out of there, I have to go!"

Arthur cursed loudly. "Are you SERIOUS, Alfred?"

"I have to go, Arthur! I have to go!"

"_Go away_!"

"Alfred, leave them alone," Yao heard Feliciano say. "Arthur's busy!"

"Ewww!" Alfred responded. Turning around, his voice resorted back to a pleading tone. "Arthur! I'm serious, it's an emergency!"

"EYEBROWS!" Yong-Soo's voice came thundering through the door. "YOU HAVE SOME FUCKING QUESTIONS TO ANSWER!"

"Go—" Arthur jumped as a small hand was placed firmly on his wrist. "Maybe we should go," Yao said quietly. He was already buttoning up. Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but the liquid golden eyes looked so softly and beseechingly at him, he turned around slapped himself on the forehead instead.

"O-o-okay," he said, trying to smother the stab of fury coursing through his veins. "But tonight, you're definitely dancing with me."

* * *

><p>The moment he stepped into the Smiling Pict, Yao could feel himself drawing numerous, multiple stares. An onslaught of bright lights and blaring music flowing from giant speakers assaulted his eyes and ears at the same time. Squinting, Yao noticed that the packed dance floor was alive with sweating, writhing bodies, and the scent of alcohol was so pungent in the atmosphere that the Chinese boy swore he could get drunk just from breathing in the air. He could spot Alfred, Norway, and some others milling at a table adjacent the dance floor. Beside him, Arthur reached into the pocket of his jacket to remove a pack of cigarettes.<p>

Somehow it reminded him of his days with the General Winter.

"I'm going to the bar and getting us a pitcher," he said to Arthur, whose sleeve was then grabbed by Alfred. Before Arthur could muster a protest, Yao disappeared into the crowd.

Yao made a beeline for the bar, where there were several drink specials listed on the posted chalkboard. After waiting patiently for several minutes, he found himself towards the front of the line and already anticipating that pilsner. He was immediately accosted by a giant, looming shadow.

"Hey there. What are you drinking?" The man belonging to the shadow, asked Yao.

Yao glared at him and, using a crooked index finger, pointed straight across the bar towards Arthur, who appeared to be deep in conversation with Alfred.

"Ah," the stranger, who had to be six feet tall and at least thirty pounds heavier than Arthur, "let me keep you company instead."

"That's my _boyfriend_," Yao said.

"Hmm. What's your boyfriend's name, sweetie? 'Fag'?" One arm, as thick as Yao's waist, shot out and planted itself on the bar counter, blocking the American and British boys from Yao's line of vision. The man's grin widened as he closed the gap between him and the Chinese boy, without the slightest concern for the look of ever-increasing alarm in Yao's eyes as Yao backed away until he hit one of the barstools.

Trapped, Yao shivered as a large, warm hand touched him; it trailed from his small chest, to his slim waist. As the stranger bent to kiss his collarbone, Yao immediately opened his mouth to protest.

"I'm—I'm okay with what I'm drinking now," Yao stammered, his eyes darting all over the bar, looking anywhere but the man's face. The pushy stranger reined him in more tightly, grasping his wrist in a gentle but unrelenting grip, snaking his hand along Yao's pants to rest on his small thigh.

"You look so cute," the man said, as though he hadn't heard Yao's response, "but you know what you'd look _really_ good in? A schoolgirl outfit."

"It's negative ten outside, aru. I'm not going anywhere in a schoolgirl outfit," Yao hissed, trying not to explode, attempting to civilly play along. "Are you nuts?" He stifled a gasp as the man slid his arms around the Chinese boy and pressed the bulge of his pants against him.

"You know what _else_ is really cute to a guy like me? Eye contact." Yao felt his sharp chin suddenly gripped in a sweaty, meaty hand and held firmly, and his eyes bulged as the man started to angle his head to plant his lips onto Yao's.

Yao growled and he twisted his body fast. The junction between his palm and wrist was out and crashed onto the guy's jaw, _hard_. There was a sound of 'crack' and the guy moved back, cursing for his cracked jaw and his bleeding tongue. Yao spitted out, and he punched the guy, this time on the stomach. His power may not be that strong, but his speed made up for the impact. The bastard went down onto the floor, and screaming in anguish.

Yao snickered and poured his drink onto the man's head.

"I am not that cheap, bitch." He sneered.

"What is happening here?" Suddenly another man coming in, looking at the condition of his friend on the floor with blood around his mouth and he growled.

"You bitch!"

Yao snickered. "Bring it on, pussy."

The man growled and packed a punch onto Yao's face. Yao moved away, but he was unaware that he moved back onto the wall and he was truly trapped. The son of a botch smirked and grabbed Yao's collar.

"Got ya', slut."

"OH FUCK NO!"

Yao groaned as a screaming, angry Brit came running over. Arthur jumped and didn't hesitate to jump up and seize the back of the Yao's assailant's collar, jerking him towards the ground. "Stay away from my fucking boyfriend!" Arthur bellowed.

"He's _my_ boyfriend," the stranger managed to spit out, attempting to take a swing at the British boy. Arthur pounced, and, using his elbows as leverage, climbed onto the man's back. Ignoring the man's flailing, Arthur curled his hands into fists and targeted the man's ears, beating him senseless.

"Arthur!" Yao tugged desperately at Arthur's shirt-tail. "Let's get out of here!" Arthur abruptly leaped off the man's back—who stumbled a few steps forwards, nearly collapsing—and grabbed Yao's hand, dragging him away towards the exit.

* * *

><p>To be Continued!...Review please?<p>

Hasegawa.


	13. Chapter 13

"Where are we going? Where are you taking me?" Yao fussed half-drunkenly as Arthur dragged him out the entrance of the bar, nearly upending a table in the process—and past the mile-long line of waiting patrons into the chilly night air.

"Arthur! STOP!" Yao's words came out in puffy clouds, as he planted his feet on the ground and yanked his arm back. Taking a deep breath, he shouted, "I'm not going _anywhere_ until you—"

"DUCK!" Arthur shoved him out of the way just as the long arm of the muscle-bound bouncer made a sweeping grab at the two boys. Yao squealed as his elbows hit the pavement, feeling the grinding particles of the pavement dig under his skin. The British boy landed spread-eagled on top of him.

Arthur cursed inwardly as he felt a hand possessing the diameter of a basketball clutch the scruff of his neck. "Excuse me for interjecting, but what exactly do you kids think you're doing?" a high-pitched, creepy-sounding voice bearing a very strong Russian accent rumbled in his ear. Arthur twisted his head around, freezing at the sight of two large purple-irises staring back at him. They belonged to a well-built man bearing a deep chest, which was covered in a tight, sexy black T-shirt.

"Ease off, old man," Arthur snarled before he could stop himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he smirked to himself as he saw Alfred, Yong-Soo, Feliciano and the others who'd originally met up with him and Yao, all emerging from the bar entrance. Yao, who was dangling from the bouncer's other hand, was desperately shaking his head, appearing to mouth, 'No, no.'

The bouncer giggled—a truly terrifying sound. "'Old man?' My hair may look white and distinguished, but I'm actually only 2 years older than you, little scrawny British fancy man! In fact I attend your sister high school across town. My name is Ivan, and you'd better remember it, _da_?"

"Very nice to meet you, Ivan," Yao said in an overly-friendly voice, as though trying to placate a threatening bull dog. Arthur shot him a withering, incredulous look.

"Very nice to meet you, as well! So," Ivan brightly turned back to Arthur, "is your cute little girlfriend going to suck my penis in order to bribe me to let you two back in the bar, or not? For you see, I don't have another break for another forty-five minutes, and would like to get on with it."

"I'm a guy!" Yao screamed at the same time Arthur exploded, "I'M GONNA FUCK YOU UP!"

"Oho?" The Russian's voice turned a bit sour and disappointed as he held Arthur about an arm's length away, the British boy snarling and clawing at him like an angry wet alley cat. "Well, this has turned out to be quite a dilemma. For you see, I know you are underclassmen, and… aren't you a bit too young to be going to a seedy, bad club like this, _da_?"

"Aren't you a bit too _thuggish_ to be employed at this tiny, run down, no name downtown club?" Arthur retorted, the veins in his neck threatening to burst. "Why don't you cart your butt up North and patrol a thousand-man Siberian work camp, you walking Neanderthal!"

"ARGH-ARU! Look, don't mind him too much—he's just had too much to drink tonight," Yao started, then promptly smacked himself upside the head.

"Oh, underage alcohol consumption too?" Ivan's face darkened gleefully. "_Da_, I suppose a night in the slammer will—"

"HYUNG!" An unmistakable voice pierced the air, echoing dramatically in Yao's eardrums. Three heads turned in the direction of the bar parking lot.

Yong-Soo was jumping up and down next to his new SUV, flapping his arms around like a giant bat. "_We've got to get out of here_!" The others had either already buckled themselves in the car or were rudely staring at Yong-Soo doing his little dance of urgency. "Those guys you pissed off at the bar are looking for us, and they mean business!" the Korean explained.

"What guys? Oh, right, them," Yao twisted around a bit, shrugging off his hoodie. Ivan was left gaping at the empty hoodie flapping about in his hand while Arthur finally got the sense to wriggle out of his shirt too. The British boy promptly fell into a pair of waiting arms.

"WHAT?!"

"Heheh! America to the rescue!" Alfred grinned from ear to ear as he hurriedly carried Arthur princess-style towards Yong-Soo's SUV. "Fear not, beloved leader of our gang! Soon you will be safely back home, returning to your steady supply of video games and eating Cheese Whiz while scratching your bal—"

"STOP! Where's Yao?"

"Yao?" Alfred's eyes darted confusedly to the side. "He took off running as soon as he got loose, but I didn't see—"

Craning his neck, Arthur cussed a couple words that left even Alfred astounded. "Oh, f..." Alfred trailed off as he followed Arthur's petrified gaze. Many meters away in the distance, the giant dark form of the bar bouncer appeared to be closing in on a much smaller figure.

As the Brit and American watched helplessly, the bouncer made a wide grab, reaching out and seizing the small figure's long ponytail.

"Stop—STOP, Alfred you asshole! We have to go back!" Arthur frothed at the mouth as he fought against the airtight grip of Alfred's interlocked arms. The small figure was struggling now as he was being forcibly dragged towards a long white sedan that was parked underneath a scrubby grove of pines. At that very moment, Alfred's eyes zipped towards a familiar face that had just emerged in the doorway.

"There they are! THAT'S THEM!" one of the sleazy brutes who had accosted Arthur and Yao earlier in the bar screamed, stabbing a finger towards them.

"Poop," Alfred muttered, breaking into a real run as a screaming posse of angry drunks zeroed in on him. He ignored the acute pain in the side as he pounded towards the parking lot with his precious cargo folded up in his arms. Nestled against Alfred's chest, Arthur shuddered at the unmistakable sound of many shoes thudding in serious pursuit behind them—he didn't dare look back.

_SCREEEECH_!

Yong-Soo's SUV pulled up beside them. "Where's Yao?" Yong-Soo demanded right away, his eyes saucer-wide.

"Just drive. Follow that white sedan!" Arthur babbled nonsensically as Alfred threw open the passenger door, too out of breath to form a coherent response.

"What are you talking—" A beer bottle went flying inches past Yong-Soo's hair-curl, landing in a million pieces on the pavement a few feet behind them. "Oh, God. Get in!" As Alfred bundled Arthur inside and slammed the door behind them, Yong-Soo pulled the gear into Drive. As they zoomed out of the parking lot, never to return, a thrown styrofoam cup spattered Coke all over the windshield—followed by a stream of loud insults and threats.

"THERE!" Arthur pointed in the direction of a long, white sedan on the road just up ahead.

Yong-Soo proceeded to drive like he'd never driven before in his life. They tried their damndest to keep up with the sedan, but Ivan drove like a pro. Finally, after losing him about four times, they were at a complete loss as to where to track the Russian's vehicle anymore. And that was how they ended up the night licking up each other's bruises inside Yao's old gang headquarters that night.


	14. Chapter 14

Hong Kong took a swing at Arthur. The Brit ducked just in time for Hong's fist to fairly pulverize one of the wooden load-bearing beams of Yong Soo's roof.

"HEY!" was Alfred's angry reaction.

"NOOOO NOT MY HOUSE!" was Yong-Soo's.

"You assholes!" Hong Kong screamed at the sullen group as Wan and Macau each held onto one flailing arm, barely detaining the force that is indignant, rambunctious Hong Kong. This time, nobody dared utter a contrary word. Even Lovino was staring only at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.

"Now, HK, there's no need to get overly excited," Arthur began in a lecture-y tone.

Macau grimaced as the arm he was grasping nearly punched him in the face. "How could you just leave without him!" Hong screamed. "He's going to fucking murder us when we rescue him!"

"Why'd you think it was such a good idea to get in that Russian bouncer's face, Arthur?" Wan demanded.

"Do I really have to answer that, woman?" Arthur retorted gruffly. "What would _you_ be expected to do if someone were running their damn mouth? _He_ was the one out of line… calling me a 'scrawny British fancy man.'"

"HAHAHAHAH!" Alfred unleashed a torrent of stentorian laughter so close to Wan that she jumped about two feet into the air, releasing her hold on her boyfriend in the process. "Oh my God, Arthur—so mean, but SO TRUE! I mean, you are very skinny! And with that awesome getup of yours, with the little Loki-esque vest, the slicked back hair, and the Harry Potter accent." Alfred cupped his hands together and shoved his grinning-from-ear-to-ear face into Arthur's. "Did he ask you to demonstrate your satanic gifts of supernatural prowess?" he inquired teasingly. "Or at least where to find some quality tea and crumpets, you _proper nawty geezer_?"

"Hahaha," Norway giggled very quietly behind his left hand, from his usual spot in the background.

"Sod off, Yank. I am anything but '_fancy'_—I'm a loud, drunken lout that hails from the grittiest part of the East End of London!"

Alfred was tearing off his socks. He chucked them in Arthur's face and started dancing frantically around the carpet; Roderich swiveled out of the way as the American turned about in a circle. "I am a fancy boy!" he screamed, twirling impressively on his left ankle. "I am a fancy boy!"

"M-merciful Buddha, just how much did he have to drink?" Wan asked Feliciano; at this point even she could barely contain herself.

"Well, brother and I looked it up online. The calculator said that, due to his BAC, he should technically be dead," Feliciano answered cheerfully. At that moment, Alfred tripped over a previously-unseen electric cord and landed flat on his face.

"_Arthur-san_."

Clenching one fist, Arthur turned around slowly on his heel, at the soft mention of his name. He wasn't the only one; slowly, each teenager fell silent as the speaker slowly made his way into the warzone that was previously a Korean's spotless living room. Even Hong Kong stopped thrashing about, curious to listen to what Kiku had to say. As the Japanese boy paused assuredly in mid-step, taking a deep breath through only his cute, turned-up nose, the British boy's eyes began to narrow suspiciously.

Kiku began, "If only I'd been there—"

"What are you gonna say, 'if only I, Kiku Honda, had been there, precious _Nii_-san would never have fallen into the hands of the Smiling Pict bouncer and gotten kidnapped'?" Arthur demanded. The rest of the group gaped at them with raised eyebrows and open mouths.

Kiku's mouth went thin, forming a compressed white line. "Actually, I was going to say that I might have been able to take a quick picture of the sedan Yao was forced into before it took off. My version of the iPhone comes with a highly sophisticated high speed camera."

"Yao is going to be just fine," Arthur snapped, while Roderich raised a questionable look towards Elizaveta, who immediately made a shushing motion with her right hand. "He can take care of himself. He's not some little helpless princess."

"You think that," Kiku retorted with a bit of an edge to his voice, "because you don't know him like I know him."

"Oh, really?" The entire room tensed even more, as Arthur's voice inflected sharply. The British boy crossed his arms over his chest, and smiled smugly. "Did you know that your 'little princess' gets uncomfortable in weather that's over 80 degrees Fahrenheit, and that the reason his skin is so soft and pearly is because he eats 3 sea cucumbers a day? He spends each night before cooking a huge vat of vegetable soup, and then dunks the sea cucumbers inside in the morning. But you've never even once helped him make breakfast, have you?... You only eat what he plunks down in front of you, and leave the half-eaten crumbs for him to clean up."

"Can he teach me how to grow sea cucumbers after we save him?" Feliciano interrupted brightly.

"Did you know that he has this incessant habit of clipping his toenails at his desk in school, or in front of the TV, just basically anywhere he can find a seat?" Arthur continued, unfazed. "And that he's totally self-unaware of how uncouth this looks as he does this?"

"Gross!" Wan exclaimed.

"Yao and I have shared a _life_ together, you meddling fiddle-faddled little usurper!" Arthur thundered. "I know you—if you and Yao ever really got together, you'd judge him constantly and relentlessly, and then you'd get bored with him after only about a month. Be honest, you don't want him—you don't even _want_ someone to _care about_, do you?!"

"So _what_ if I don't?" Kiku fired back without batting an eye. "Yao is cute and fetching, and therefore I do want him, so that I can sleep with him and play with him whenever I want. It will likely keep me satisfied, and I will treat him well and keep him content so that he will wish to stay. It's as simple as that. I am being completely straightforward, not a bit devious or underhanded about it. None of it means that we _can't_ be good together."

"_You're off your trolley—it totally does mean that_!" Arthur shrieked.

"There's that Harry Potter accent!" Alfred's head perked up, with a mouth full of dust from the floor.

"All right, then, Mr. Knight-in-Shining-Armor, Mr. Holier-than-thou," Kiku said, a devious smirk forming in the corners of his mouth. "Let us make a deal."

"Let's make a _gentleman's_ agreement," Arthur insisted, sneering back.

"The one who brings Yao back safe and sound from the confines of that psycho, will be the one to keep him. And the other must accept these arrangements, and stay away for good."

"Agreed," Arthur said after pondering a mere moment. "Everyone else here can serve as a witness to this."

"How exactly is forming this 'gentlemen's agreement' _not_ treating Yao like some helpless, little princess?" Wan demanded at Arthur.

"Did you say something?" he asked.

* * *

><p>"<em>Shhh-shh-shhh."<em>

Darkness, coupled with a sinister, creeping dread.

He was being driven, and to where, he hadn't the faintest idea. With every moment that passed, every space of time that grew longer and longer between bursts and sounds of human life or activity—horns blaring, flashing street lights, the hum of multiple motors starting— any hope of rescue was bleakly dimming farther and farther away in his mind.

"Today is your lucky day, or is it?" The Russian's voice came out in a loud, yet strangely lusty purr. "I prefer to bring home from my work only lovelies with impossibly perfect asses. Your little, swinging behind caught my eye the minute you sauntered into Smiling Pict, and I could not take my eyes off it all night, no."

Yao breathed his third prayer to Buddha and let out a muffled squeal as one of those giant hands descended over his mouth.

"So here we are, hehehe! My home sweet home. Whoops! Hold on!"

Yao lurched forward as the car halted abruptly, his cuffed hands crushing weakly around the leather-wrapped steering wheel to which they were attached. The earpiece of his sunglasses, which had been previously hiding the bandages Ivan had stuck over his eyes, fell off one ear. Ivan didn't seem to notice.

"Hehehe," Ivan said again as Yao heard the telltale scraping noises of the car being set in park. "Hehehe."

"What is so funny? Why are you laughing?" Yao demanded, quivering from head to toe in his Fila Skele-toe Sneakers.

"Am I?" Yao could almost hear the older boy frown, and tap a finger against his bottom lip. "I hadn't noticed. Sometimes I laugh without meaning to. It is compulsion, you see. For example, if I hear a child's laughter, even when simply passing by on the street, I must join in without even knowing the cause. I love the act of smiling and laughing, even when my heart is not in it. But in truth, Yao Wang, I am not a happy man."

Unhappy men can be very, very dangerous.

"But all of that is about to change," Ivan went on. Yao bit back a gasp as the bandages from around his eyes were finally ripped off, and he reveled in the huge wave of physical relief that followed. Humming to himself, Ivan proceeded to unlock the other boy's handcuffs from the steering wheel. Without wasting a second, he held Yao's left wrist firmly as they plowed forward up the path leading to Ivan's house. He didn't tie Yao back up as they marched into the foyer of the tiny white split-level, but he didn't bother to loosen his iron grip, either.

Once they were inside, Yao attempted to twist his head at the side of the empty room, up towards the bleak darkness of the high window that held the inky night sky—anything but the Russian's face; however, it is a nearly impossible task to do when the person you have no desire to stare at is all over you, towering like a giant over a hobbit.

"W-what do you want, aru?"

"Aren't you cold, my little princess?" The Russian chuckled softly and bent down. His lips were all over Yao's left ear, licking the outer shell seductively. "You haven't gotten to know me yet. I am way better than that small British man."

"What are you talking about, aru?" Yao hissed. "Let go!"

"They left you behind. With me. So you are my responsibility now." Ivan smiled. "Hey, so I am right?"

"About what, aru?"

"About the 'small' British man."

Yao let it over his head before blushing hard. "NO WAY, aru! His is way more gargantuan than yours—I'll bet my life savings!" He tried to straighten his shoulders. "In fact, I call it 'Godzilla.'"

_Or was that Kiku's ~aru?_

"Really?" Ivan smiled slowly as his fingers curled around Yao's wrist. He took ahold of Yao's small palm, then laid it flat on the budge of his own pants. "Compared to _this_?"

Yao held his breath. He needed to admit that, even _relaxed_, Ivan's was much more substantial than Arthur's standing, excited manhood at full mast. But for Yao, Arthur's was already more than "good enough." More than satisfactory. It also shamed him that, as a man, his was so teeny-tiny compared to Arthur's and Ivan's.

"..Ye..yes, aru!" Yao squeezed his eyes shut as he almost screamed the words, trying to maintain his dignity. No, no. He was a man as well, and comparing dick sizes was not something for him to judge. Hell, his boyfriends should just get a lady. Hey, he might be a "bottom" in his relationships, and with a smaller cock, but size doesn't always matter, right? Yao was sure he had the skill to back it up. It's not the length of the vector that counts, it's how you apply the force-aru!

"Ah, maybe because for _you_, everything is too big." Ivan chuckled, unknowingly stomping on Yao's last shred of pride in the process. "Look at your ass; even only _two_ of my fingers refuse to fit into that cute little hole, _da_. But the good news is… you will always feel too tight to me."

"You arsehole!" Yao shouted and kicked at Ivan. Unfortunately, he was much shorter, and besides, Ivan's crotch was being well protected. The Russian only brushed him off and, chuckling, easily pinned Yao to the wall, tighter and tighter; leaving no inch of space for the androgynous male to move or even breathe.

"Slow down, princess." Ivan smiled. "I can be a gentleman too. But I am a Russian gentleman, and we have our own idea of 'limits.'"

Yao couldn't help but shudder as he let these words sink in.

…And his body was still frozen, unable to obey his simplest mental commands, when Ivan scooped him off his feet and actually carried him out to his car. The Russian strapped him in the passenger's seat, and in silence, they drove throughout the night. Within ten minutes or so, they had stopped in front of Yao's house.

"I scrolled through your cell phone while you weren't looking. I know your address now, so you won't be able to run from me. _Da_?" Ivan smiled. Reaching over, he stole a quick but very passionate kiss from the frozen Chinese boy beside him, before gently pushing Yao out of the car. "Good night, my princess. I'll be back for more."

"More _what_…?" Yao wanted to ask, but Ivan had already shut the door to his sedan and had driven away by that point, leaving the boy speechless and standing dumbly in front of the ornate entrance gate of his parents' house.

"Yao, is that you?" a voice called from inside, and Yao knew he was in deep trouble. His mother was calling his name. And it was _four a.m._ in the morning.


	15. Chapter 15

"Man! Talk about pressure! So, what should we do next?" Alfred sputtered as they exited through Yong-Soo's front door. When Arthur didn't so much as turn around, Alfred reached out and poked him in the back. "Now what, boss?"

"We find out where the fucking white sedan is you idiot!" Arthur snapped without bothering to turn around to address his second in command. "What was the make and model of that car, a Camry or something?"

"Good idea!" Alfred bit his lip. "Or, we could go back to your flat, go on the Internet and start looking at the online police blotter detailing the events of the night we all got kicked out. Hopefully they published something about the suspect that got away in that car."

Arthur halted, causing the American to bump right into him with a small _oof_. "There were cops called?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. We DID instigate a huge brawl."

"Alfred! If that's true, you came up with a good plan!"

"Really? I did? Eeee!" Alfred's blue eyes shone. "And… something else just occurred to me too! We could also look into searching for websites that belong to really tall Russian weirdos, and scour them for info on where he might live!"

"That's… _also_ a good idea!"

"I just hope that when we do come across those sites, he hasn't yet posted images of Yao's naked raped body all over the internet! Bwaahaha!"

"Wow, what a slut," a voice suddenly came from left field.

Withdrawing his fist away from the direction of Alfred's face, Arthur and the American both did a double take while trying to stifle unmanly screams. A set of two glowing red pupils materialized out of the darkness and paused in front of them on the sidewalk. "Evening, boys."

"Cripes! Oh, bollocks," Arthur exclaimed, disgusted. "Where did YOU come from?"

"Is that any way to address an officer of the law?" Gilbert demanded, looking intimidating, buff and sharp in his uniform.

"Were you following us or something?" Alfred inquired, wide-eyed.

"No, I like to sit outside random Korean families' split-level houses just for kicks. Yes, I was following you for a while. To answer your question, the police WERE called after that little incident at the Smiling Pict."

"I don't know what this Smiling Pict is that you speak of," Arthur said immediately.

"Don't test me too much, British Fancy Man. I can help you get your little boyfriend back, if you just agree to a few stipulations. In return, I'll need to take you in for—"

_Bzzzzzzzzztt-zzzztt_.

"Don't pick that up when I'm talking to you! It's rude!"

Whipping around, Arthur turned his back on the Prussian as he fumbled with his cell. "Yao?" Arthur almost yelled into the mouthpiece.

"Hey, Arthur. Oh, God, I'm so glad to hear your voice. I'm back at my parents' house. I just wanted to let you kn—"

"What the HELL happened to you?" The Brit's voice was reaching scream-level pitch now; Alfred suspected it was more due to sheer relief than anything else. "Are you alright? Where are you now?"

"I'm all right. I said I'm back at my parents'." There was a pause. "Are you _crying_?"

"No, you git," Arthur sobbed into the phone. "I'll come over right away."

"Please don't!" Yao sounded frantic. "I just wanted to tell you I was all right as soon as I was able. I'm fine—he didn't do anything to me. But it's 4:30 in the morning and my parents are already ready to murder me—"

"Don't make me punch you!" Arthur screamed into the phone. "To hell with your bloody parents, I'm coming there whether they like it or not!" Here he paused in mid-rant as the squawking sounds of Yao's protesting voice floating over the receiver. "Yao, where is IVAN? He's not there _with_ you, is he?!"

"Ivan?" Gilbert butt in, using an astonished voice. "Don't tell me… Ivan… Braginsky?"

"He's six-foot-nine," Alfred started, "with premature white hair, works as a bouncer at—"

"That's my cousin!" Gilbert exclaimed. "He has something to do with all this?"

"He's the one _behind_ all this crap!" Arthur turned around in mid-argument, spittle flying from his mouth.

"I should have known he'd get himself in…" Gilbert shook his head. "I mean, no. Maybe that trampy boyfriend of yours seduced him, took it too far, and Ivan attacked him because he couldn't control himself! One look at that willowy little build—at the kid's face and his 'love me?' gelatin-golden eyes all fringed with those dark lashes—I mean, I could understand how that could have happened." Gilbert halted in mid-ramble, pausing his disorderly gesturing while lowering his gaze from the sky. "Hey! Where the hell are you going?"

Arthur and Alfred had taken advantage of Gilbert's accusatory soliloquy to furtively scuttle away towards Arthur's bike. Within moments, they were on the road, a screeching police siren tailing them from afar.

* * *

><p>Safely inside his own house, or so he thought, Yao paused at the entrance of his bedroom. He sniffed the air. <em>Why does it smell like ethanol in here?<em> Had his mother been cleaning in his absence?

He pushed the door open all the way and then closed it carefully behind him. Even though it was very late and he was exhausted, his nerves frayed beyond comprehension; through his filmy vision, he could still discern that the shadowy appearance of his room looked strange and altered, somehow. Something was off.

When Yao finally pinpointed what was different, the blood drained from his face. The five or six photos of him in girls' and young women's attire, which normally adorned his bed frame and walls, were gone. The tacks were all that remained; some even had tiny thin shreds of paper still attached about the pointed tips as though, in a feverish fit of impatience, the thief had violently ripped away the photographs without bothering to remove the tacks first.

Yao felt the enormous shadowy presence creep up behind his back before he even saw it.

"AAHH—_mmmbbmm_!" Yao struggled and closed his eyes as the giant gloved hand descended over his mouth.

"Greetings, Xiao Yao!" a voice whispered in his ear. "How pleasant it is to be able to meet again so soon!"

Yao clawed frantically at the glove over his mouth until Ivan quickly lost whatever little patience he normally possessed and snatched the other boy's thin wrist, nearly crushing the birdlike bones in the process. "_Shhhh-shhh_. Stop that, Yao. Be a good boy and calm yourself. OOF!"

The sharp angular elbow swinging backwards into Ivan's kidney might have felled any other man, but not the Russian giant. Nonplussed, Ivan simply used one hand to clutch either side of Yao's face, squeezing the hinges of his jaw ever so menacingly.

"_Hmmbmm_!"

"Close your mouth. Close it. I will remove my hand now. Remember, a good boy. _K__horosho_?"

Unfortunately, Yao's frantic shaking of his head indicated he would shriek like a train whistle the minute Ivan removed his hand, so Ivan reached out with the other of his freakishly long arms towards Yao's sock drawer. Quickly yet carefully, he crammed a clean pair of white tennis socks into Yao's mouth, and removed a round roll of something from his coat pocket.

"It never hurts to bring this in case, _da_?" A few ripping sounds, and soon enough, Ivan had neatly pressed a piece of duct-tape over Yao's lips. The bigger boy sighed as he gripped Yao's forearm and roughly shoved him so that he was sprawled face-down on the floor, placing one boot in the middle of his back. He had _so_ been hoping to get a good night kiss.

_Bzzzt-bzzt_. The cell in Yao's back pocket began to thrum as Ivan was using his long pink scarf to bind Yao's wrists behind his back. Yao arched his back, emitting a muffled yelp as several long fingers reached into his back pocket and removed the offending device. Ivan took his time studying the flashing name on the screen, pinning the Chinese boy's squirming form to the floor all the while.

"Kee-koo Honda?" The cell's screen went dark as it was flipped over, landing carelessly with a thump under the bed.

"Who is that? Your classmate? Friend? Lover?" The Russian boy was speaking very fast all of a sudden, peering intently into the smaller boy's face, as though the answer would be written all over there. "Who? No secrets between us, alright, Xiao Yao?" There was the scent of vodka all over Ivan's handsome, chiseled face.

As he hurled questions, one gloved hand was making its way into the front of Yao's shorts. The tunnel vision was kicking in as Yao's insides began feeling as though they'd been turned to liquid nitrogen. As the cold gloved hand roamed upwards on the satiny skin of his chest, pinching one nipple lightly, Yao closed his eyes and let out a muffled sob.

"What's wrong? Stop that," Ivan said, sounding slightly panicked, as though nothing at all was going according to his plans. Which, in all likelihood, was the case. His brows furrowed at the sight of tears traveling down Yao's face. "No, no," Yao heard, with a strange lilt in the Russian boy's voice.

But Yao couldn't stop blubbering. Here he was, the supposedly fearless leader of his unstoppable Asian gang, tied up and helpless as a baby in the dark room, seconds away from being raped by a psycho. Yao shouldn't have gone to that stupid party at the Smiling Pict. He shouldn't have told Arthur not to come by, after his boyfriend had begged him to let him check up on him. He shouldn't have closed his bedroom door after coming in here—his parents and Wan all slept like boulders; nothing short of a firework lit indoors could wake them up—

"You shouldn't have let yourself be photographed like you did."

The ministrations had halted. Yao hadn't even noticed during the mental wallowing in self-inflicted guilt. "You shouldn't have let yourself be photographed like you did," Ivan slurred again in a whisper, his husky voice suddenly deepening a bit so that he sounded like a serious old man. Sighing, he placed his head onto Yao's chest; the feathery white-blond hairs tickled Yao's nose.

"After I dropped you off," Ivan continued, "I circled around your neighborhood until I was sure you'd come to bed. To make sure you were safe. I intended to hold off on making love to my new lovely doll until perhaps our next date, but when I crept in and saw your photos… the voices, it distracted … they made me …"

With a jolt, Ivan raised his head, abruptly withdrawing his hand away from Yao's body. He curled up his fingers. As the golden eyes stared upwards, Ivan chomped onto his fist as though it were a roast potato.

It was a shocking, visceral sight. Unable to tear his eyes away, Yao stared in mounting horror as the white teeth sank deeper and deeper into the skin, until tiny rivulets began to stream down the knuckles. The gag reflex within his throat bobbed, threatening to suffocate him. All the while, Ivan's expression did not change an iota, not even when the corners of his mouth began to trickle red liquid.

"_Mmmbmmm_!"

Without thinking, Yao launched himself forward, crashing his head into Ivan's wrist. The Russian boy was completely caught off guard as Yao effectively knocked the bloody fist away from Ivan's mouth. "Yao!"

The Chinese boy's paternal instincts had taken over.

As utterly frightened—and _angry_—as he was, Yao hadn't been able to bear witnessing another moment of this horrible self-mutilation. For a few seconds there was nothing but darkness and the sound of heavy, labored breathing. When he managed to open his eyes, the Chinese boy found he was snuggled in a cocoon formed between two muscled arms, deeply within Ivan's embrace.

"Please stop trembling," Ivan was whispering urgently.

"Mmmm!"

"Please don't be scared of me." The Russian boy sounded positively miserable. "Please." He held up the bitten hand. "The vodka makes it not hurt, see?" He brushed his injured hand over the Chinese boy's silk locks.

"Don't tell me you don't care for me, after all." _Stroke, stroke_. "It'll be all right now…. _shhh_."

The hand continued to stroke Yao's scalp in a strange, arrhythmic fashion. At Ivan's words, spoken in that deep Russian-accent, Yao wasn't sure why, but his panic started to wane a bit. He stopped struggling.

"I'm going to untie you now."

Strong fingers fumbled with the scarf and in a few moments Yao was free. Ivan helped rip the duct tape off and, wincing; Yao managed to cough up his own tennis socks onto the floor. For a brief moment, he considered bolting, or at least screaming for help, but Ivan was folding his arms around him like the walls of a womb, Yao dangling half in and half out of his lap, and he felt just like an infant being gently cradled. The emotion washed over him like a drug.

"Will you run from me?"

Yao thought before he spoke. Ivan's panic at his tears indicated that while he was definitely a bit messed up in the head, it was not in the sociopathic sense where tears no longer posed a deterrent from forced sex. Yao knew he could take care of himself, and his self-reassurance calmed him. It was enough that he no longer felt threatened by his unwelcome guest.

"Would… would you like some tea?" he started.

CRASH!

Ivan put his hand over Yao's mouth again and tightened his grip around the other boy's waist, while loudly cussing something in Russian.

CRASH! _BANG_!

The front door to Yao's room swung open. A mind-numbing pause, a thick cloud of dust—both Ivan and Yao could only gape—and then, in the doorway, a rather magnificent sight emerged in the form of a white-clad figure with golden buttons.

Kiku Honda picked a splinter from the front his shirt, as delicately as though his fingers were a pair of medical forceps. After discarding it onto the floor, his slate-gray eyes steered pointedly towards Ivan, who was still clutching the Chinese boy within his arms as though his very life depended on it.

The Japanese boy opened his mouth. "I believe you are holding something there that belongs to me."


End file.
